Never Truly Relinquishing Her Hold
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: The girl who has been cursed shall return to haunt Amelie every nineteen years. The only issue is that she cannot escape. Not that she would want to. For this is Claire, her daughter. R
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this idea for a while now, but this is the first time I've really had chance to write it (and as I'm in the middle of exams, that's not a good thing!)**

**A BIG thank you to Flying Penguinz, the beta of this story :P**

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_**Summary:**_

_**Claire is Amelie's daughter. Born in 986AD, they enjoyed life together, a mother and daughter. However, what happens when Claire dies a horrific death but then is reincarnated, continually throughout the centuries? Will they be able to break the curse Bishop put on her all those years ago, in 2011 Morganville?**_

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_Amelie's POV: 986AD – Berkshire, England._

"Please, let it stop!" I cry as yet another wave of pain – a contraction? – hits me. If I wasn't going to receive such a brilliant gift – I know my child _has _to be brilliant – I would have given up a long time ago and succumbed to an inevitable death. I have seen too many of my friends die in childbirth – even the princesses and the ladies of the court! If God is willing to take them, why wouldn't he take a disgraced princess? A princess who tried to overthrow her father, the king, in a mistimed mutiny that led to all of her fellow mutineers either being killed or having to swear fealty to him, completely failing. A princess who then, years later, managed to become with child when she wasn't married, meaning that the future Queen of France (whenever my dratted father would die… why hasn't he died yet?) had to go into hiding for fear that people would see me with my child. The way I came to be with this child, I try to block out of my mind because it is too painful to remember… If I remained in France whilst carrying this child, I would be insulted, mocked and ridiculed. After all, I am not married and this is deemed to be unholy and not right. Yet how I came to be _in_ this state is the unholy thing, the manner in which it happened.

I was courting a fellow royal – some Lord of Brittagne – when he came to dine at the castle, at my Father's request. We dined alone and he plied me with much drink – too much, more than I could handle. I lost control of myself and feel I became a little inappropriate… however, that doesn't account for what he did… when I awoke the next morning, I was alone and put everything down to a bad dream. Yet when I became sick violently and the royal physician informed me of my pregnancy, I knew then what had happened. What he had done. Where he is now, I do not know but he will have **nothing **to do with this child's life. He will never see it!

"Miss, you're almost there," Bess, the woman who is assisting me says with a smile. I had to retreat to England to hide throughout my pregnancy – this is the only place where there was absolutely no chance of anyone I knew finding out about me: many wars between my country and this have resulted in only illicit crossings. If it wasn't for the fact I speak flawless English, I fear that I would have been caught and identified as Amelie Bishop, Princess of France. Yet I managed to get here and have been staying in the same manor house for the past seven months, a small place – but comfortable – which is close to the small town of Stratford. My father arranged this for me, and within only three days of my confessing about the pregnancy I was on my way: something inside of me was a little suspicious, yet I realised that how could I think such a thing? I caused this and just because for the first time in my life he has been pleasant, he needn't be after something or getting revenge.

Fifteen minutes later and I feel my child being bore from me – I feel the separation and the ache in my chest that the connection I have shared with my unborn child has been severed. Yet the love that grew during the nine months for this child of mine, that I have been dying to meet, stays put. In fact, I believe it gets stronger.

"Miss, it's a girl," Bess says, taking my child from the other woman in the room who was keeping an eye on the birth and wrapping her in a swaddling cloth, to remove the blood and other things on her. Yet I don't see any of this: all I see is my beautiful baby girl. She has my English rose skin, creamy with a hint of pink about her, and a delicate nose. Her eyes are huge and blue – I wonder what colour they will go, or whether they will remain blue. I remember reading that all babies' eyes are blue when they are born, but obviously some stay blue whilst the majority change colour. Her head is covered in a thick layer of springy brown hair, chocolate in colour, and I gently tease one of the little ringlets back around to join the others as she resides in my arms. She immediately stops crying, which pleases me, and I place my smallest finger in the middle of her tiny hand for her to grab on to.

"Hello, my baby," I whisper gently to her, smiling down into her face. My long white blonde hair is scraped back and my face, I don't believe, is a pretty picture, yet staring into those huge eyes makes everything feel so much better. I feel brilliant – elated! "You want to know your name? Yes? You do? Well, my baby, you are called Claire – it is a beautiful name, something that is only befitting to a beautiful baby like you!" I giggle with her as she splutters in glee – I already love motherhood!

"Miss, your father is here," Bess says, making me look up from little Claire in alarm. What is he doing here? I haven't spoken to him since I left France – it is too dangerous to send letters… but what is the King of _France _doing in England? If the people knew, he would be killed instantly – it isn't a wise thing to do! "Shall I send him in?" she asks and I nod, not entirely sure what is going on but agreeing anyway. As my mother would probably agree if she were here, getting my father angry or declining his presence is not the best of ideas. But why _is_ he here? The only thing I can think of is that he would take my child, my little Claire… but no, he couldn't be that mean. After all, to separate a mother and her child is evil, something I don't even think my Father has managed to reach yet. He cannot be able to reach such lows, without being not human. Yet what can he want? Suspicion instantly rises in me, but then I remember the many lessons my mother taught me before she was slain, taken by God for whatever reason. Perhaps it was to make me become the person I am today, to help improve my individuality and independence. However, I cannot allow God to take me before my time, as then Claire would be alone. I cannot only have eight short years with Claire, like my mother had with me. She told me to always be open when a situation presents itself to you… you may _think_ you know the character of the person, but perhaps they shall surprise you. There is always a chance, she said. I don't truly believe in it, but out of honour and respect for my dear mother, I decide to do this. I try and qualm the suspicion in me by staring into Claire's face, waiting for her grandfather to enter the room.

Within minutes, he is entering the small chamber where I have been for the past day and a half or so and looking relatively happy. The curtains are drawn yet he stays away from the small chink of light that has gotten under them – how peculiar. However, I do not wish to dwell on such abnormalities my father has – my daughter is so much more important than he is.

"My daughter," father greets me in a semi-friendly voice as he approaches. He is wearing his usual outfit of purple velvet (the belief that aristocracy should only wear purple is a tradition he rigidly sticks to, much to my contempt) but today is accompanied with an odd shaped drinking flask, containing something with a scent that I cannot quite make out. "And my granddaughter… how interesting this is. Have you named her yet, Amelie?" he asks me, making me confused. I never thought that he would ever be nice to me but here is a scenario (unless he has an ulterior motive somewhere) where my belief is being entirely challenged. Wait, it is my father. Of _course_ he has an ulterior motive… but what? What motive could he have that regards me and my daughter, the most precious thing that is in my life? I do not know, but I am not going to sit back and watch as he takes my daughter. He will _not_ take her! She is mine, and mine only… nobody else can have her.

"Claire," I say in a slightly strangled tone, looking back from my father to my beautiful baby girl.

"Delicate," he compliments – this is another strange thing. Normally, he only believes in criticism, yet here he has actually complimented a decision I have made. How queer! "You have good taste, Amelie, I will allow you that," he continues and I immediately jump from confused to suspicious. _Why_ is he here? What purpose has he that means that he will actually compliment me, to simply get what he wants? He quite evidently needs me to be open and easily susceptible to whatever he is planning… yet what could it be? I cannot deal with this right now: he is supposed to be in France whilst I am supposed to be enjoying the first few hours of my daughter's life. Yet the sooner I call his bluff, the sooner he will move on and hopefully leave me alone. That is the thing I hope for… I can only pray that he will do this.

"Father, why are you here?" I ask him and he grimaces slightly. This isn't his usual reaction… perhaps he really _is_ here just to be here for me…. No, that isn't likely. He will never have done this. No, that is impossible.

"Must we do this now?" he asks something I believe to be rhetorical. "I simply came to hold my granddaughter and see how my daughter is… is that too much to ask for, to be concerned?" he continues. With him, yes it is. He only ever does something that _appears _to be conceding and loving if he has another reason behind it. This is

"Very well," I concede and he motions to hold Claire. Well, it cannot hurt, no? Therefore, I slowly move forwards and place her in his arms – cooler than I remember them being as a child. Perhaps his elderly age has slowed his blood circulation… perhaps it means he is closer to death. If only!

As I make to move back to my pillows and rest for a while, as he holds Claire, a wave of pain overtakes my body. I feel blood pouring out of me and as I look over at my daughter, I see something strange occurring with my father. His eyes… they have turned red. He is tensing up, as if he has to do something very hard. What does this mean? His eyes are red… that isn't normal. _Nobody's _eyes turn red… except vampires. Oh my, is my father a vampire? Yet that is impossible, no? I always believed vampires were a work of fiction, something that existed only in stories or games. Yet here could be a direct opposite to all of my beliefs – a true vampire in the flesh, so to speak. My father. A vampire. And I have just handed him my daughter.

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**So what did you think? The chapter was MUCH longer, but it was too long, so it was split up!**

**The circumstances regarding how she got pregnant is in a one shot – 'the last year' but the ending is different… if you read it, don't forget to remember that the ending is different!**

**Please review! I'd love lots of them :P **

**Vicky xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**Thank you to Flying Penguinz for being an amazing beta for this chapter!**

**Glad you all liked the last chapter! Sorry for the long update - I have had more exams/revision/hw this week than you could ever possibly imagine. I'm being literal here!**

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He continues to hold my daughter and the complete panic that is encompassing my entire body seems to grow stronger by the second. A vampire is holding my child – he could kill her in an instant. He has her – I want her back!

Yet I cannot do anything to try and get her back as I feel sharp stabbing pains along my abdomen and the flow of blood continues to rush. How is he still here? if he is a vampire, surely he will be unable to resist my blood?

"Claire," I gasp, not wanting to leave her. I continue to look at her as my father stands, looking stricken down at me. I reach out a hand to her, when he suddenly moves – much faster than I could have ever expected – and takes her out of the room. He truly is a vampire; there is no chance that a human could _ever _run that fast.

My heart sinks as I process the information that I am dying, alone, and I do not have my daughter. Worse than that is the fact that my daughter is with my father, whom I have now discovered is a vampire through deduction and my own intuition. _That's _what was in the drinking flask: blood. Why am I thinking this? I am dying and nothing can be done, just as nothing could be done for any of my fellow women who died during childbirth, so why am I not thinking of Claire? Imagining her face that I have just memorised, seeing the depths of the caverns of her eyes, all knowing and all seeing… this is what I should be doing.

I hear a movement by the door and lift my eyes to the intruder. It's him. My father, the vampire who has taken my child away from me, is here.

"Stay away from me," I manage to utter through the pain and the weakness that is taking over my body. Soon, I won't have enough blood left: yet surely that is wrong. Galen, the prized scientist whose work I studied only last year,said that the liver continually made blood, so surely I shouldn't die?

"Don't be silly, Amelie," Father says as he advances towards me. I cannot even move a muscle, given they have locked down. Due to fear or weakness, I do not know, yet they have done this heinous crime. "You are dying. Surely you do not wish to leave your daughter to grow up without _either _parent? If not, then I'm sure you know what the option is you have to take – the one that makes you like me, a vampire." I can see he is struggling with the blood all over my body and the sheets, his eyes glistening a sinister ruby red, but his words found their way into my brain with a vengeance. Could I truly leave Claire with no one but an eternal grandfather, who is the most evil person I have ever met to date, and no knowledge of who I am? Already, the answer is coming to me. No, I cannot do that. Claire _cannot _grow up without me! I am only one and twenty years – surely this cannot be the time for me to die?

What if this was God's plan for me all along? To have me become one of those who are damned for all of perpetuity, but manage to survive through my daughter's life, and hopefully the generations after her. To be able to see Claire through her life, never leaving her. Yet also to have me stuck with my father forever.

Would I be able to pay the price for such a heavenly gift?

"Do it," I murmur, using the last reserves of my strength. Instantly, he is by my neck and lowering fangs from his mouth that I never once realised he had. Paralysed, I cannot move as he sinks these horrific additions to his mouth into my neck and begins drinking violently, yet there cannot be much blood left _in _me! Something tells me not to scream, because this is technically what I wanted – although I presume he would have done it anyway, to have an eternal hold over me – and if people came in, it would be a disaster.

Slowly, what little life I had in me ebbs away until I am hovering on the edge. It is taking all of my effort to stay in the living world – _I will not give up_!

Then he removes his fangs from my neck, making me wince in agony as they catch against my raw skin, and begins to gnaw at his own wrist, my blood on his fangs and his blood mixing together. Then he lowers his wrist, which is bleeding profusely, to my mouth and forces it open. Then he drips the blood into my throat, making me swallow somehow. He repeats this until I have swallowed the metallic-y tasting liquid, which doesn't have any real taste to it besides the bitter aftertaste of metal, four times. His wrist has already healed up and he moves back to look at me.

For many a moment I continue my battle to stay alive, thinking only of Claire's tiny face every time when I begin to slip away. The pain eases, as does the weakness, leaving me feeling—well not _normal_, but certainly much better than I was before. It feels as if I am simply _being _here… not actually changing or moving forwards – then again, if I am a creature of the night, I am not going to be changing, am I? My presence goes unnoticed by the constant ticking of Time.

My heart rate is very slow, and I can feel my heart beginning to prepare to beat its last beat. I know in only moments it will never beat again, never pump my own blood throughmy body… I will be reliant on humans for their blood, their vitality to exchange from their bodies to mine. However, it means I can be here for my daughter's life. Surely that is all that matters?

Piercing pains hit my head and I want to move … yet I cannot do anything. I cannot move any of my limbs – I am a true case of paralysis: being entirely conscious but unable to move myself in order to protect myself. I feel something changing in my brain, as if the priorities for my body are changing: no longer is eating or drinking or even sleeping a priority – drinking blood is: survival.

Tingling in my limbs suggests that my skin is changing to be tougher, more resilient, and my strength in them increasing dramatically. I also feel stabbing pains in the upper ridge of my mouth, with another set of teeth forcing themselves through my gums. They feel sharp, pointed, as my tongue traces them and they fall further down than the rest of my teeth.

I shut my eyes before reopening them, just for everything to be so much clearer. Before, I couldn't see the individual particles of dirt loitering on the ceiling, yet now that is all I can focus on. Also, I can hear so much further… Claire is crying in a room on the ground floor, being comforted by Bess' quiet soothing noises.

"Amelie?" my father asks me quietly, so quietly that I could never have even heard it before. I realise that, no longer am I constrained to my body, unable to move… I am free! Almost without realising, I glide upright and breathe in deeply before regretting it. Blood. That's all I can smell. The delicious scent of the liquid that is currently coursing around the many people's bodies in this house – including my daughter – intoxicates my brain. My mouth waters as I realise I could take them all now, and nobody would ever know. I could saturate this pain, this _longing_, in my body that screams for blood, I know I have the raw strength but cannot act upon it until I am fed this fortifying substance.

"Yes?" I ask my father, tearing my attention away from those downstairs to my father in a desperate bid to stop myself tearing down the stairs and biting into their necks.

"Drink this," he says, tearing the bottle from his neck with such an ease, I almost feel jealous of him. He hands me his bottle and I lift it to my mouth, anxious to feel the delight of the blood rushing down my throat towards the pit of my stomach.

The bottle is approximately half full, yet it doesn't remain that way for long. As soon as it is to my lips, I breathe in the intoxicating aroma and begin to gulp it down, unable to slow down the rate I drink it at. Instantly, I can feel the blood rushing around my body, strengthening me and making me feel as if I could take out this entire house with my strength. I remove the bottle from my lips and blink, realising that my vision is blood red. Everything is tinged crimson, an entire colour palette added onto their natural colour.

"Better?" Father asks me as he removes the bottle from my hands. I can tell that our skin is the same temperature and the exact same shade – I presume that when I sold my soul to the devil, to become this, I lost my skin colour. I do not yet know the fate of my hair or my eye colouring, yet I presume they will remand the same – my father's did. Who knows, however, if that was simply luck of the draw or the confirmation I will physically appear the same?

"I want to see my daughter," I say and as I think about standing, my body responds. Ingenious! I barely considered standing up but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I was erect!

"That may not be the best idea," he says. Fury in me rises to the surface and I show this entirely in my facial expressions.

"And why is that, father?" I ask sarcastically, yet also rhetorically. "I will _never _harm my daughter… she is the reason why I joined this race, to ensure that I could be there for her while she grows up. If you _dare _attempt to insinuate she isn't safe with me, then I cannot, and _will_ not, be deemed responsible for my actions," I threaten him, making him merely chuckle.

"Very well, my dear, go and test out your control on your daughter… the one you love _so much_," he hisses. I ignore him and head to the door, realising the reason why he avoided the chink of sunlight. I can no longer be privy to the beautiful sunrise nor feel the warmth of its rays upon my face. I am entirely a creature of the night and cannot revoke that. The only way is death.

I open the door, understanding with a jolt how much stronger I am. Before, I needed to use a little strength to open the thick set door, yet now, I don't even need to flex a muscle! I follow the smell of my Claire down the hallway, deliberately not looking at myself in the mirror for fear it may set me over the edge.

I reach the grand staircase and regulate my speed, realising that there is no way that the human residents of the house will not realise something is wrong if I am walking down 40 stairs in mere seconds. I think consciously about the situation I am in and how a human would react, pacing myself so that I do not exceed the absolute upper boundary I believe would be possible for me to achieve.

Claire is in the drawing room. I can hear her laboured breathing in between cries – she wants me. Nobody can understand how much that means to me – my daughter _wants _her mother! She _needs_ her… this is the reason as to why I did this. Why I sold my beliefs in God to be able to nurse her for the rest of her life… _this_ is it. To hear that my child is crying causes pain in much of my body, but the rest is elated that she is crying for me! I barely manage to restrain myself from shimmering over to her side, and simply walk forward quickly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can still smell my blood on my nightgown, yet I do not care. Claire is here. And I need my daughter.

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**Whoop, another chapter!**

**I had almost 70 different readers for the last chapter – I'd love it if you reviewed!**

**Vicky xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

**Thanks for the reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!**

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I walk up behind Bess and feel such a longing for my daughter. It is surreal, how someone so small can make me feel so _needy_ – she is something that I need so much… I cannot live without her. I extend one hand as I stand behind Bess, smiling as I see my daughter.

"Bess, I shall take her," I say in a friendly tone, making her start. I should have made some noise as I approached, I reflect, as her shocked face turns to face me. I can read so much deeper into her face now, and note every single change in emotions reflected on her face.

"Miss, aren't you supposed to be in bed?" she asks me. "Your father said that you required rest," she continues.

"I am perfectly rested to look after my daughter," I say, slightly sharply. I note how my emotions are able to change so much faster now, than before, with me going from entirely elated to annoyed in the space of less than a second. "Give her to me," I order, looking deep into Bess' eyes. She looks dreamy for a moment before handing Claire over to me instantly without another word.

"Hello, my darling," I murmur into Claire's face, staring deeply into her eyes. They remain so cavernous, so unreadable yet so open… it's amazing to realise just how brilliant this new life is. This new life now has a chance of being with her mother, now I completed that action. I made a selfish choice, not just for Claire but for me as well – I could not die and let her live with another family, raised as their's. I need to be with Claire for her life, not looking down from heaven. This was the only choice, and I thank God that he has actually presented me with this choice. "I will never leave you," I whisper into her ear, whilst my own hear my father's progression downstairs. I shall leave with Claire and never see him again. He may have made me what I am today, but he doesn't deserve recognition for that. Oh no, I will leave with Claire so that she never has to experience the poison he spread through those who are close to him. Ever.

He will never see me again.

_Nineteen years later:_

"Mother, look!" Claire exclaims to me as she shows me her completed tapestry piece. She has been working on this for the past three months, not allowing me to help her even though I could complete it so much faster. As she said herself, she wanted to complete something that was _hers_ so that she could be proud of something for herself.

"That is marvellous, well done Claire!" I marvel as she shows me the image she has preserved forever. It is a splendid copy of the portrait painted of us when she was only ten years of age. I remained the same age I was when I was turned into a vampire, but knew that I had been that for ten years… my change coincides with Claire's birthday; therefore every birthday for her I realise is one for me as well.

We live in England, in a bustling market town, with good links to London. I realised that to keep my father away, England was the only option: he had France and had already set in motion plans to cover Italy, Germany and Spain – only months after he left without me, did he take over those countries. I would have only places with much sunlight to flee to – not a good option when you are remanded in the shade! Once I had decided to stay in England, I used my connections through Bess to find me this relatively small home in the middle of England – it is a converted barnhouse, with two floors and three bedrooms incase we have visitors. I have a housemaid, a cook and many other assistants for the house and grounds – all paid for from the three hundred thousand pounds my father gave to me before he left England to return to France. I was not inclined to take it until I thought of my daughter and how I didn't have any money for things such as food for her. It felt as if even more of my soul was being sold – this time to my father – but the benefits for Claire overruled every other possible thought of doubt I had. She has always, and will always, come first in my life.

Claire has a tutor who comes daily, to teach her in the arts of English, Spanish, Science, History, Geography and Art. I have taught her French as a second language from the day she was born, following English as her first – if she lives in England she must be brought up as if she were English. This is not something I particularly mind – the English are far from the barbarians my father and other male relatives made them out to be. In fact, they are hospitable, friendly and aim to please… unfortunately, for some of them that means that they became my source of nutrition but that is life, I am afraid. _C'est la vie. _That is the phrase of French that I use whenever Claire (very rarely, she is a model child) whines because she hasn't gotten some needless thing that she wanted, but didn't require.

"Ma'am, you have a visitor," Bernette, my housekeeper, says as she rounds the door. This room is lit only by candles, with the curtains drawn tightly shut to prevent any of the strong summer's daylight coming through the windows. I shall take a walk tonight, to revel in the perfect air associated with this time of the year, as well as to find something to eat. I do try to kill as far away as possible from this market town, to prevent the spotlight being placed upon it, but sometimes that is impossible.

"Send them through," I say dryly, motioning for Claire to sit on the chaise lounge next to me, rather than on the floor in the unladylike manner she was before. If it is only us two, I needn't mind but when company is present that is a different manner indeed. English etiquette is so much more relaxed than that of France, yet I find it refreshing!

Bernette retreats from the room before coming back with a visitor. I don't particularly listen for my visitor, but the absence of a heartbeat strikes me as odd, before I realise that this is a vampire. I have run across only four vampires in my nineteen years of being one myself, all of them much older and wiser than myself. They told me that they themselves were on the run from my father – he is trying to kill every vampire older than himself so that he can be called the oldest vampire in the world – but did not harm me. They didn't even seem concerned that I was here, his daughter, but heeded me good luck in my new life.

So who could this be?

…It cannot be… no, he doesn't know where I live. Once I left him, nineteen years ago, he never knew where I left to. He doesn't know the location of myself, nor my daughter who looks nothing like me. She has long, luscious, locks of brown hair, with matching brown eyes that are mature for her age. She is relatively tall and is slender, as I am, but with rather more of a bust than I have.

"Mr Bishop, here to see you, ma'am," Bernette says. No. it _cannot _be him. he _cannot_ be here! he cannot have tracked me down to here, to try and destroy my life.

"Amelie," a figure shrouded in black says in a cool voice I recognise all to well. It truly is him. he has found me, and my daughter, and is here. I cannot believe this!

"Father, what are you doing here?" I ask, as Bernette leaves. I stand up and stride across the room to see him, completely shocked as to his appearance. Claire knows nothing of my existence as a vampire and puts my lack of sunlight down to an illness called photophobia, where sunlight causes excessive burning easily.

"I simply came to see how my daughter and granddaughter are," he says in a sly tone that I do not trust. "Do I need a reason for coming to see you?"

"Incase you have forgotten, we agreed that we would never speak to each other again, after you returned home, to France," I say quietly, too quietly for Claire to hear. I am conscious that her ears and eyes are straining to see and hear this conversation and to see the identity of the mystery man in the room.

"See, I do not remember the terms being quite that substantive," my father replies, instantly making my heart sink. "I do not remember exclusively saying that I will _never _see you again and you do have a spare room here, in the house I paid for. Therefore, I believe that it would only be hospitable for you to house me in your home for a few days until I return to France," he says, making the frozen heart I possess sink even lower.

"You wish to stay here?" I confirm and he nods. I presume that I shall have to introduce Claire to him now then… just what do I say? Do I tell her that he is her grandfather, or just that he is an elderly relative who isn't the most pleasant of people. "Very well, then, I suppose a couple of days will not make a huge difference," I sigh, conceding entirely.

I motion for him to follow me over to the chaise lounge where an interested looking Claire is sitting. He unwraps himself from his black layers – I presume that they offer a small amount of protection against the sun – and I see fading burn marks on him. I deduce that they were caused because he had exposed skin.

"You suffer from photophobia, like Mother?" Claire guesses from seeing these burn marks and my father looks at me. "I thought that it was an extremely rare disease, only passed down from generation to generation, usually father to daughter?" why does she have to be so smart? Usually it is a good thing, but not right now. I am going to have to reveal the truth about the relationship between my father and myself now, because otherwise what are the odds that someone else would come and stay with the _exact _same skin condition as myself?

"Claire, let me introduce you to… your grandfather," I say, motioning to my father. She looks stunned.

"I thought he lived in France?" she says, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"He does, he simply came over to visit us… isn't that nice?" I pretend to be bright and cheery so that she doesn't worry and hopefully I hide the fact that it is fake.

"I have very much looked forwards to meeting you, Claire," my father says to my daughter. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby girl… you certainly have matured well. I have a surprise for you later, if you would like," he continues, luring her into liking him with the promise of presents. He always manages to convince people to like him. Usually, when they do, it is too late for them to get out of his grasp. I cannot allow that to happen to my daughter.

"Pleased to meet you, grandfather," Claire says with a smile at him before turning to me. "Mother, shall I put my things away before dinner?" she asks me and I nod, dazed with the appearance of my father only minutes ago. It is amazing, isn't it, how your life can be so perfect and then be shattered within the course of a few moments. If only he hadn't have came, it would have been truly perfect.

"I shall see you in the dining room in five minutes Claire," I call after her and hear her grumbling at the short time span.

"My, you truly have raised a fine daughter, Amelie," my father compliments me, instantly raising the suspicion levels in my mind. When is he ever nice to me?

"What is it that you want?" I ask him but he deigns to not respond, simply asking me, "Where is this dining room where we are eating? I presume that blood isn't on the menu?"

I throw him a look of disbelief before motioning for him to follow me. I can tell, somehow, that he would be able to defeat me instantly if I fought him and then Claire would be in danger. Therefore, I shall be polite and put up with him for however long he plans on staying – it would be impolite to extend that stay beyond a week – before saying bon voyage forever. After all, how much longer would he _want _to stay?

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**Thank you for reading!**

**Please review!**

**Vicky xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

**Here is the new chapter, with the last part that is set in the past!**

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I continue to lead my Father through my house and into the dining room. I may as well be as pleasant as possible whilst he is here, as otherwise the visit will be unbearable.

"Here we are," I say, sitting down at the head of the table, as I do every meal because this is _my _house. He takes a seat on my left, with Claire always sitting on my right – I presume he can smell the high concentration of her scent on that chair, which is why he didn't take it.

Claire appears, relieving us of the awkward silence between us, and dinner is served. We have _de mouton avec des legumes et des pommes de terres _(mutton with vegetables and potatoes) served with wine because water is not to be trusted, ever. I have seen the amount of pollutants in the local brooks and only once it has been boiled is Claire permitted to drink it. I motion for the permission for Claire and my father to begin to eat, picking up my own fork carefully. I cannot help but render the suspicion in me... why is he here? Yet this question can wait; it can wait until after we have eaten and Claire has gone to bed.

OoOoOoOoOo

Claire finishes playing the song on the piano that I asked her to play and both of us clap in response.

"Well done, Claire, that was marvellous," my father compliments her, making her face shine. All she has been about this evening is making sure she can do everything to impress her newly found grandfather – I cannot blame her, yet I only implore her to be careful. She doesn't know of his true nature or his personality and I fear if she does, she may be too horrified to do anything else but run and scream. "Come and sit by me," he says, patting the space on the chaise lounge next to him in an attempt to make her go there. I can hear the slight increase in her breathing as she processes this before nodding, moving past me in my chair (where she will usually sit) without as much as a second glance.

"Perhaps you should head off to bed now, Claire?" I suggest pointedly, waiting for her to leave so that I can interrogate my Father and find out his _real_ reasons for being here.

"No, I think she should stay up a little later," my Father counter-argues and I snarl under my breath so that Claire doesn't hear. _That man_! He is doing anything he can to turn my daughter's loyalities from me to him. Claire turns to me pleadingly and I relent - perhaps five more minutes can be accepted. He cannot do anything in those five minutes, can he?

"Very well, five more minutes," I say, picking up a book and pretending to read it but all the while staring intently in the direction of my daughter and my Father.

"What are you reading grandfather?" she asks him, pointing towards the black book in his hand. I have never seen a book with such a strange symbol on it.

"Something that will link you and your mother together, eternally," he says slyly, instantly sparking my fear. What is he going to do? It isn't going to turn her into a vampire because he already knows how to do that… just what exactly is he going to do? What _could _he do that would bind her to me eternally – magic doesn't exist, as far as I am aware because vampires are the only mythical creature that roams the earth, I think. Alchemy is, in a sense, magic but is also science – there are chemicals and other things involved with it.

"What are you doing, father?" I ask, sitting upright in alarm. He chuckles slightly before suddenly, so fast that I barely see the movement, he takes Claire by the throat and pulls her in close to him.

"Move and she dies right now," he hisses violently, making me freeze in terror. Claire whimpers slightly and he strokes her cheek, almost in comfort. "Claire, your mother never wants to loose you… and by completing this, technically it's a curse, you never will do," he continues. He is going to curse her. He is cursing my Claire… my Claire, whom I love to death. He is doing something to her.

"NO!" I shriek but do not move as I see a knife in his hand. It is close to her throat. He will kill her before I even take one step – I know that.

"Numquam aeternum moriantur. Eris immortalis in sensum, tempor reincarnated moriamur. Invenies matrem aetate sedecim et quiesce in ea nisi tua immatura ... Te non abesse quidem iterum," he recites from the book, with each word a darkness coming over the room. All the candles have been blown out and there is an eerie feeling. Claire looks absolutely terrified and I can see something luminous happening to her skin, something deathly. She is being eternally cursed. But why is he reuniting her with me? No, she cannot die! My latin is a little rusty, but he cannot kill her, she cannot die an untimely death, that just isn't right! He _cannot _kill her! He cannot! **(You will never eternally die. You shall become an immortal, in a sense, being reincarnated every time you die. You shall find your mother at the age of sixteen and remain with her until your untimely death... You shall never truly be parted again.)**

"Claire!" I gasp, as he releases her, rushing over to hold her in my arms. Unfortunately, before she gets there, he grabs her again.

"I don't believe I said that you could come over here, Amelie," he hisses, before showing me the long handled knife. Utter terror is evident on Claire's face and NO!

"Argh!" Claire yells as the knife is plunged into her back, around the area where her heart is.

He releases her and she falls forwards, right into my arms. I cradle her as she sobs and cries through the pain. Blood is soaking her clothing, my arms, my hands, but I cannot smell it… all I am focused on is Claire. My Claire is dying in my arms, because _he _cursed her then stabbed her. He didn't need to kill her. He has killed my only reason for living, right in front of me.

"Mother, please help me," Claire begs as my father moves towards the other side of the room, looking rather bored of her already.

"Sshh, my darling, you are in my arms and I love you," I murmur into her ear as I stroke her hair, trying to calm her down. I refrain from crying myself to try and quieten her, to make her steadier. She is dying here, with a knife in her back, and all I can do is quieten her. If I remove the blade, she dies. If I don't, she dies anyway.

"I love you," she says to me. I can hear her heart rate slowing and slowing: soon, it will be neigh.

"Stay with me Claire, I cannot lose you!" I wail as her eyelids droop slightly. She forces them open and clenches onto my hand one again, pain and fear present in her face.

"I will always be with you," she mutters before her body goes limp. She is lifeless. She is no longer here. My Claire is dead. She has died. She isn't breathing, her heart isn't beating… she is no longer on this earth.

Now she isn't here to see them, I let the tears come, into her thick hair they drop and drop, until I am sobbing. I continue to clutch her body, determined to keep her warm as long as possible – she is my baby and she is dead. _He _killed her. He has killed my baby girl, the one who I live for, the one who I turned into this form for.

"You murderer," I hiss at him, fangs down and eyes blood red. Anger is consuming me but I cannot move… Claire is in my arms.

"Oh for heaven's sakes, stop overreacting, Amelie," father says, rolling his eyes and acting so blasé about everything. He has just murdered his own granddaughter for nothing more than a 'kick' and he doesn't care. "Incase you've forgotten, Claire is still alive. Right now, she is being born to another mother in the country, with the same brown hair and brown eyes. She will be called Claire. She will find you when she is sixteen years old and stay close with you until her nineteenth year of life, when she will perish. Most unfortunate, but you wanted her forever," he shrugs before smiling wickedly.

"I never wanted her forever," I murmur, my eyes still streaming with tears. I will never be ok again; I will never be happy in life. I may be getting my Claire for three years every two decades nearly but that isn't the same. That isn't the same as having my beautiful daughter for her entire life. That isn't the same as having portraits with her, records of her work, examples of her brilliant craftsmanship. "I wanted her _now_, not forever. She was mine for her human lifespan, and then I would let her go. But no, you have _ruined everything _by cursing a poor, innocent, sweet girl for nothing. I hate you!" I wail, clutching Claire even closer to me.

He shakes his head before walking out of the room, leaving me with my daughter, lying in a pool of her blood…

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**Ooohh... what do you think? I was a little disappointed with the lack of reviews on the last chapter, with the amount of readers, but still... if you review now, it's made up! Over 150 readers HAVE to come up with some review :P _pwiddy pwease_ :)**

**Vicky xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

**Now, the last chapter was a bit 'oh-my-godish' wasn't it? Well, I have to say, we are back to present day Morganville… the intervening years **will** be filled in as we go! Btw, it's set in 2012, as that is when (according to my awesome calculator) Claire is 'due' in Amelie's life again!**

**The original update date WAS going to be Sunday... but I am staying at my Gran's because the drains in my house have broken (no toilet/shower!) so I am bored and updating! I have also written too many oneshots/chapter updates this weekend! Haha, ANYWAY on with the story!**

**I don't own anything… **

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_Amelie's POV: - present day Morganville._

She is close. I can feel it… I can feel it in my bones. I know, logically, that she must be approaching soon – she is already slightly late. This has only happened three times in the past thousand and six years: when it happens, it always makes me terrified. Mainly it was because of the wars but once it was because she was detained by King Henry VIII – I will not pretend it was not terrifying, knowing that one of the most promiscuous kings ever had my daughter – but I thought that she wasn't coming. Of course I would be ecstatic that my Claire no longer had to suffer through the agonising pain caused by the violent and horrific deaths that she has to deal with but it would also mean that I didn't have my Claire anymore. Even though I have her for such short periods of time, during which she doesn't _know_ I'm her mother, I still have her. She still comes to me every sixteen years for three years, and those three years always end up being the best three years of the two decades. Each time the duration of my daughter's 'visit' happens, it becomes even better.

Does that sound truly awful that I find my daughter to get more and more like I always imagined her to be, every time she comes to me? Is it right for me to compare her to the _original_ Claire, the one I bore and raised, every time I see her? I don't know… when I am with my daughter, it seems so natural to see how similar she is to how she was; how similar she is to my expectations. But when I review her, when I think about the three years I had with her after she dies but before the 'next one' comes, she doesn't seem the same. She's either too… too selfish or quiet or vain. She sometimes isn't particularly bright and once I was so horrified at her _profession_ (if such a word can be used to describe the work of a lady of the night) I could barely look at her for the first few days. Yet I suppose the variation is natural – she cannot be the same as she was, because of numerous reasons. One is that I hadn't raised her, two other people had, so they may have treated her differently to how I did. The other is that the era was different every time, almost. Of course she would be different in 1670 than 1138 – the dress sense had changed, attitudes had and people had different priorities. Yet every time she was still my daughter and I loved her. Without exception... she was my child, ma bébé, and I couldn't _not_ love her!

My hand rests on the book in front of me, the book that has grown to become bulging throughout the years. I have kept this book as a recollection of every single 'Claire' I have spent time with; every single time I have encountered my daughter. This means that although one thousand years, almost, has passed since the death of my daughter, I can **never** forget them.

That is the main concern I have with this disease. It isn't that my race will die, not really. Of course that is a pressing concern, but Claire is more important. What if I began to forget her? What if, when she came into my life again, I attacked her? I couldn't ever live with myself if that happened. I will not pretend that I am not concerned with the deterioration of Myrnin… he was the only hope I had of breaking this curse my _Father_, if he deserves to be called such a thing, placed upon my only child. He came so close in 1936, and again in 1974, but then the disease destroyed any chances he had of destroying it. He cannot even find a cure for the disease, let alone consider breaking a curse, and he has been trying to do that for far too long. Perhaps… perhaps once I find out the identity of my daughter, _perhaps_ she would be able to help… would I risk her life in order to save my own? Decisions, decisions... Yet I needn't think about this yet.

I don't even know where she is.

Every single time she finds me. It was easy enough for her to come to me when I still resided in England, because she only had to come across the country. However, when I moved to America… I wondered what would happen. I wondered if she would follow behind on another ship, heading to the wondrous new world of America. She did, I later found out, because she had an English accent when she found me. However, from then on, she had an American accent – the curse must have adapted to apply wherever I live.

"Amelie?" Samuel's voice startles me, and I jump slightly in alarm. I didn't hear him coming into my office – why did he feel he had the _right_ to invade my office? Oh yes, I forgot I said that. "Have you found her yet?" he asks me and I wince slightly. Somehow, I managed to forget during the last fifteen and a half years that I told Samuel about Claire and what my Father did to her.

_~Flashback 1993~_

My tears drop onto the floor around the body of my daughter, mixing with the blood that has stained the floor. Claire died in my arms mere minutes ago, after a horrific accident. She, she was cooking on the stove and it just blew up in front of her. She died slowly, horribly, painfully. No matter how much I tried to move her from my arms to take her to the hospital, once again, the curse prevented me from moving her. Not until she died would she roll limply out of my arms, her limbs flailing slightly. Her eyes are still open and staring, fear evident in them… I can still see the pain etched on her face.

I hear a knock at the door and I look down at my appearance: my cream suit is covered in my daughter's blood, _my_ blood in a sense, and I doubt my expression depicts anything other than wild anger and pain. Yet I cannot stay away from the door… there is the magnet inside of me, that wants the person standing there. How do I know who is by the door? Because I know my Samuel: my Samuel _always_ comes here every night at this time. I never answer the door, because otherwise I would have wasted the last fifty years being alone…no, I never normally answer because why else did I push him away?

I open the door and see the completely shocked face of my Samuel as the door opens.

"Amelie, whatever happened?" the smile fades from his face as he sees me covered in blood. He sees my facial expression and his concern seems to grow ever stronger for me. "Why, what, _how_ has this happened? Why are you covered in blood?" he continues and I show him into my home. I take a deep breath before leading him towards the body of my daughter. Slowly, carefully, I lift her up, noting how her body temperature is already cooling rapidly.

"This," I begin slowly, turning with my beautiful child towards my lover, the one I haven't been with so many years. "This is my daughter. Well, a reincarnation of her… she has… s-she was c-cursed by my Father in the early eleventh century," I break off, tears and sobs interrupting my explanation of what has happened to my Claire. Never do I cry in public or even show emotion… not even in front of Myrnin, my closest friend and one of only three people in the world who knows what Claire is, or Oliver, one of the others who knows Claire's identity even though I haven't seen him in many years, see me cry. So why am I crying in front of Samuel? I pushed _him_ away, not the other way around… I don't deserve him.

I sit down carefully on the sofa and tuck Claire's clothes in gently, closing her eyes over – I cannot look at them anymore. The innocence in them makes my guilt only increase epically. Pulling her close to me, I look up at Samuel who looks slightly confused.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and I take another breath, desperately trying to regain my composure. After all, I have never let it down this much before… but I need someone right now. In the past, Myrnin would be here. This is no longer possible because of the disease: it is too dangerous for him to be outside of his lab. His periods of lucidity are too short now… if Claire was still alive, he wouldn't be within one hundred metres of her.

I take a few moments to compose myself, squeezing my eyes shut as to remove the last few tears in my eyes, before answering my dearly beloved. "Claire is my daughter," I say simply and note how his eyebrows raise in confusion. "She was born in 986AD in circumstances I cannot explain but my Father turned me into a vampire. However, when my daughter was nineteen years old, he returned. He cursed her so that she would be born to different parents but when she turned sixteen years old, she would find me. I would have the pleasure of spending three years with her before she died horrifically in my arms in her nineteenth year. This is the 53rd time that this has occurred to my Claire… this is the 53rd time that she has died in my arms," I break down again, unable to keep my composure. I lean backwards and place my head on the headrest, trying desperately to clear the tears and pain from my face. Yet I cannot replace the usual mask I have on my face – the only reason that I put this mask on is so that the inner pain within me does not escape. The inner pain caused by Claire's successive deaths that is inside my body could destroy me if it was revealed to the world. Why else do I remain in my home or office for so much of my life? Human, or even with other vampires, interaction is too painful for me. So this is the true reason why I am as I am; described as an ice queen by many, I am cool and distant from the world because of Claire and what my Father did to her.

"Amelie, I never knew," Samuel says, and I feel a rush of indignation. What makes him think that he _deserves_ to know, that he is _special_ now that he does? Of **course** he never knew… I have told only two others this entire truth before – he _had_ no chance of knowing!

"I wouldn't have supposed that you would," I sniff slightly before I cannot see for tears. I cannot be distant with Samuel… I can barely admit it now, but I _need_ him. I cannot survive without him, at least for tonight.

Perhaps I could be selfish. Perhaps I could just have him close during the times of great need – whenever Claire is here. It isn't as if there is a huge chance of Myrnin finding a cure before then, so he isn't going to be able to help me. Oliver isn't here and, after our last exchange, I doubt I shall ever see him again. Could I be as selfish enough to have my Samuel with me here, tonight, and then let him go again until… until the 'next' Claire?

I already know the answer to that. Of course I can. Because… because I cannot go through it alone. Not again.

_~End of flashback~ _

"No, I haven't found her," I admit as I carefully move the book containing every single remnant of my daughter to below my desk. "I have looked through every single family that wish to come to Morganville, and not one single one of them has a female child called Claire. None of them even have a teenage daughter… I have looked in the papers, scoured the news and even branched my searching out to cover a hundred mile radius. I cannot find her anywhere. Samuel, _where is she_?" I ask desperately, unable to hide my concern.

I doubt that Oliver remembers my Claire. I doubt he remembers the times in the past when I fretted over my daughter and he was privy to those moments. I doubt he even remembers I ever _had_ a child. We barely speak here, and when it is it is simply cordial, and he would _never_ assist me. Never.

Samuel's brow furrows slightly as he considers this. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again many times; every single time I think that he _must_ know that whatever suggestion he comes up with, I will have already considered one thousand times over. There isn't one single Claire even born in Morganville, there isn't a single Claire in the surrounding towns and cities that fits the criteria that Claire must be: born on 3rd September 1993, brown hair, brown eyes and she be called Claire. She is nowhere to be found. She is already late… perhaps she truly isn't coming.

Finally, Samuel decides upon a route that I couldn't _possibly_ have considered – his face appears to light up dramatically. I feel as if I should tell him that I will have already thought of this idea, but I cannot bear to hurt him. I may just allow him to say this and then pretend to look it up because for him to be hurt hurts me as well. I cannot admit this to anyone, not even him, but I think I love him. Rather, I _know_ I love him. He is the one I need in my life, yet for the most idiotic reasons, I cannot be with him.

"Have you checked the college records?" he asks me, startling me. That is one route I _haven't_ gone down, primarily because Claire is _sixteen_. She isn't exactly at university, although I understand the residents of this country call it college, level unless they have suddenly began accepting sixteen year olds as students.

"Samuel, I hardly believe that she is capable of being at that level yet," I say carefully, keen not to hurt his feelings. He is such a rock to me, even from afar, and that deserves respect and the belief in his ideas, no matter how wild they may appear to be.

"No, I definitely heard something when I was working about a student who was getting accepted early or something," he argues back. My curiosity is sparked – perhaps there _is_ a chance that she could be here… after all, I have exhausted every other means by which she could come into my life. This is the only means by which I haven't searched, because I never thought that she would have been able to go to the university!

I stand up and race into the far corner of the room where I _know_ the admissions roster for Texas Prarie University is – I looked it over last week but never paid much attention to it… after all, all I was doing was ensuring that the surnames of those coming to town were not linked to known troublemakers. **Never** did it cross my mind to search for a Claire.

There are _hundreds_ of them… even at my vampire speed; it shall take me hours to find out if there really is my daughter amongst the new attendees of the school. I hear a chuckle behind me and see that Samuel has turned on the computer I so rarely use and is already pulling up a file.

"It is so much faster to check on here – I'm pretty sure that they'll have sent you the online records on the off chance that you may have become less of a technophobe since last year," Samuel says - well if it is so much faster, why hasn't he found her yet?

"So, Mr Glass, have you found her yet?" I ask as I begin to search through the newcomers to my town – I am positive that I shall find it before him.

"Let me just do a quick search on Microsoft Excel to alphabetise the students, then cross reference age, gender and birthday," he murmurs, almost to himself and I half smile. No matter how tense I am, listening to Samuel always brightens me up… even in situations like we are in now, I cannot help but feel slightly happier than before.

"Good luck with that," I say quietly and he snorts, obviously happy that he is here. I have pushed him away so long; it seems so quaint for him to actually be here in my home. Yet it feels entirely natural, as if I _shouldn't_ be away from him.

Within only moments, he is sounding victorious. "Here we are, Amelie, there are three students called Claire beginning university this year," he says – surely they cannot _all_ be sixteen?

I flit over behind him and look at the screen – as far as I can tell (I am no expert on these computers whatsoever… paper copies are so much better, I feel) the first Claire is too old. Yet she may have had to lie about her age because otherwise she may have not gotten in… let us see.

"Bring up their photos," I instruct Samuel, who obliges. It is as I thought – the first Claire, a Claire Green, isn't her. She is too tall and her facial structure is completely wrong. She is also a natural blonde and looks rather haughty – she could be a perfect match for the disgusting child by the name of Monica Morrell. If it wasn't for the brilliance of her older brother, Richard, who is the natural leader of this town she would have been killed many years ago.

"The next one," I order as soon as it processes through that this _isn't_ Claire, that there is no chance whatsoever that it could be her.

The second one comes up and again it is a no. Claire Pollard, again, has the wrong facial structure and she is nothing like Claire. This time, she is a natural redhead and does not share one single similar facial feature with me. No, she is not my Claire.

"Please let it be the final one," I murmur to myself, looking up to God as I say this. _Dear Father, __**please**__ let this final child be mine, please allow me the time to spend with my darling daughter. Please; your loving and faithful follower, Amelie. Amen. _

Claire Danvers. That is her name. According to the information bar underneath her name, she is sixteen years old. Her birthday: September 3rd. _could_ this be her? Everything about her seems to fit: the age, the birthday, the name; she is obviously intelligent because she has made it into university at such a tender age.

Could this be my daughter?

"Show me," I order, my voice barely a whisper because of the constriction of my throat. This is perhaps the most tense moment of my life – is this my daughter?

Samuel clicks the mouse to load up the photo and I gasp. _It is her_! Her chocolate brown eyes gaze intelligently out of the photo and bore into mine whilst her dark brown hair falls in locks over her shoulders. She appears to be rather petite and she is _en forme,_ not overweight or underweight whatsoever. It is as if I am looking into a mirror, in a sense, in regards to her bone structure and the colouring of her skin. It is my daughter. She is here. I have found her at last.

"It's her," I breathe and Samuel looks around at me in delight.

"That's great!" he expresses, looking as if he wishes to move closer to me in order to give me some sort of affection. However, I move slightly and he realises his place once again. I am the Founder. He may love me, and I him, but he cannot come close. Etiquette is always, and has always been, important to me. We are not together, therefore displays of affection are inappropriate.

"What do I do in regards to seeing her?" I ask his opinion and he bites his lip slightly. He turns back to the photo and seems to memorise her face before looking back at me. His face is so open, so innocent; it makes my heart break to remember how I have hurt him so. It makes my heart break to _continue_ to hurt him, and myself.

"Leave that to me," he says and I feel a rush of doubt. Can I leave such an important part of my life to Samuel? "I swear, leave it to me and you **will** have your daughter, Amelie. You can count on that," he continues and I smile. His belief in himself is so… so _Samuel_! He will do _anything _for me to just spend time with him. So why not indulge him in this? It could do more good than harm, anyway.

"Very well," I say, with a small smile at him. "Thank you Samuel… for everything," I continue.

I then lean over and kiss him very lightly on the forehead, my hands at either side of his head, before backing away. My daughter is here. She needs to be my priority. Not Samuel.

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**What did you think? **

**Please review!**

**Also, if you haven't watched it, watch 10 o'clock live on 4od – it is pretty damn funny!**

**I also wrote a oneshot called 'Friendships begin somewhere' which is about Amelie meeting Myrnin. It has ties to this story (subtly) so have a look!**

**Vicky xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

**Any psychology in here, please blame the taster lesson I had in it the other day!**

**I'm staying in a hotel because of the **STUPID **drains breaking, so I have written quite a bit on this story... yay!**

_~ "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach..." ~ __Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

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_Two weeks later:_

I pace up and down, desperate to find out whether or not Sam has made _any_ headway in the past two weeks as to finding my child and actually _communicating_ with her. I have observed her… from a distance and I must have Oliver control his charges much better – if I had seen Monica Morrell pushing her down the stairs I would _not_ have cared that she was Protected… she would have been dead within less than a second. When I saw my daughter injured, I wanted to go to her. Yet I couldn't… she didn't, she still doesn't, know who I am and if I came up to her covered in black (given I presume she wouldn't exactly be the most responsive to seeing me burning in the sun) she would have been more scared than responsive. That wouldn't exactly have been the best thing for when I introduce myself formally as the Founder and she would recognise me as the vagrant who tried to kill her.

I lost her, however. The day after she became seriously injured, I could no longer find her. I continued to loiter in the shadows by her dorm, ready to protect her if Monica came after her again, but she never showed again. There have been no calls of a murder in Morganville recently so I doubt that she has been killed but… but the fear is overwhelming. I can only hope that Samuel has some words of comfort for me.

Another thing I worry about is Oliver. If he found her, I do not know what he would do. Yes, he may know of my daughter Claire (he met a variety of them… he nearly gave the game away, as they say nowadays, as to our relationship more times than I can remember) but I doubt that he is going to be 'on my side' and protect her. I have more belief that _he_ would kill her himself, rather than anything else. As much as I hate to admit it, Oliver is out of my control. He is raging wild, hoping for the opportunity to overthrow me, and I know that soon it shall come to a head. Unless a common enemy comes here, and I severely doubt that, we shall be at war within the next five years. Thankfully, Claire will have… Claire shall no longer be here, if I can hold on for another five years.

"Samuel, I implore you to inform me of _something_ positive, or I fear I may regret my actions afterwards," I say to the man standing in front of me. I hate myself for being so _callous_, so uncouth, with him but I cannot help it. If my daughter has died, or has managed to get herself injured, and I do not know where she is I do not know what I would do. If she is missing in Morganville, her chances of survival are slim: even just _Brandon_ being around already halves her chances of surviving more than an hour or so.

Samuel, an angel with the sapphire eyes I so craved for myself, takes a deep breath and smiles at me. I can only hope that this isn't some ploy for him to psychologically change my mood and make me believe that the horrific truth he is going to say is actually a brilliant piece of news. I believe that that is called reverse psychology? I hope that this isn't going to be the case, I can only hope…

"Amelie, please relax and take a breath of air," Samuel instructs me and I shoot him a look of annoyance. Who is _he_ to tell _me_ to relax? After all, _I_ am his Founder, his once Protector, not the other way around. If anything, it should be _me_ to inform him what to do, not him I.

"Very well," I respond coolly, unable to believe that I am following the orders of another. However, I can tell that he would not have responded if I were not to do as he instructed… how very wrong of me. If Oliver could have seen this… if Oliver had seen this, I would have been expecting this uprising much sooner than five years. Yet I do see his point. Now I have taken this deep breath, I feel as if I can bear any of the news that he could give me. The only exception, I believe, is that if he were to inform me of Claire's demise. I, however, do not find that that will be a likely path of conversation, so I need to know_ what he knows_! "Now I have obliged to your unnecessary demands, please inform me of the information you have collated regarding _my_ daughter, Samuel. Otherwise, God forgive me for my sins…" I threaten, shaking slightly with anger. I cannot simply sit here and wait for him to tell me something that could potentially destroy my life. He must tell me, and **now**!

"Amelie," Samuel says in a warning tone, but I erupt. How _DARE_ he speak to me like that? How _DARE_ he treat me as if I am a child, insinuate I need to be warned as to my **behaviour** – he has NO right!

"No, _you_ had better inform me _right now_ of this information that you have on my daughter because, I swear, anything I do I _will_ not regret!" I explode, standing up to prove my point. However, this _doesn't_ seem to do much for my assertion of authority; Samuel continues to tower over me, with his shocking flash of ruby red hair, and looks as if he is shocked at the outburst pouring out of my mouth. My tone is ice cold, unable to be any more chilled, and the fury I feel at his refusal to inform me of the whereabouts of my daughter is spreading through the room; in accordance with my power, the room turns icy cold, as if the air conditioning has been turned on… I know Samuel can feel it, he _must_ succumb to it. He lasts many a second; staring directly into my face with a frozen expression, before finally he relaxes. He looks away from me and turns to the floor… It hurts me to not be able to see his face.

Unfortunately, it hurts me more to not know where my daughter is.

If Claire… if there was no Claire, I would never have refused Samuel. I truly _would_ have nothing worth living for… but there is a Claire. There is my daughter who will always be in my life; she also will **always** be the most important thing. Honestly, does he believe that I never realised that I reciprocated Oliver's feelings for me, all those years ago? Did he believe that he was my 'first love' and that nothing ever occurred in the thousand years before I met him? Yet he _was _the only one I loved. Nonetheless, no matter how many feelings I have for Samuel, he will pale in comparison next to my daughter. I do not think that he can see this; he thinks that he still has a chance, that one day I will wake up and realise I **cannot** live without him… oh, how I wish I could do that! Yet… yet, Claire is my life. She is the one that I need… this curse is at the forefront of my mind and I need to find a way to be able to let my daughter rest in peace, not continually resurrected, before I consider the status of my relationship with Samuel.

"I know where she is," Samuel finally mumbles, so quietly if I did not have the quality of hearing I have I would not have been able to hear him.

"Then, _please_, go ahead and enlighten me Samuel," I say, slightly sarcastically. Sarcasm is not an emotion by which I usually use... It is so vulgar, under the usual terms it is used. However, I have made an exception here because... It's Claire.

"She is staying at the Glass House with my grandson, Eve Rosser and Shane Collins," he blurts out, turning to look at me. His sapphire eyes are perfect; they are filled with every emotion that I could ever want to see - love, concern, adoration... But then there's the ones I wish I could not identify. I wish I could not see the pain in his eyes, the pain that I will not show my feelings for him. I wish I couldn't see the longing he has for me, or the despair in his eyes... I wish, I wish, that for me to have my daughter, he didn't have to suffer.

But who am I to say that he shouldn't suffer? Life is, as we all know, unfair.

"Are you positive?" I ask him, calming down now that he has told me what I wanted to know. Claire is in the Glass House. Claire is staying with two of the most troublesome children I have ever came across, and one who seems one of the most tormented... Not that the other two aren't tormented. Eve and Shane, they have lived through much. Yet can I cope with my daughter living amongst the throngs of those shunned by Morganville... Even though I doubt either are concerned with their lack of Protection. Michael... Michael is different. He is a talented musician but, much like Samuel was different to his Father (he had to be, to be in love with me), Michael is different to his. I would go as far to say that the similarities between Michael and Samuel run further than skin deep: both are (or so I have heard, in Michael's case) kind, warm hearted and completely benevolent. Michael has shown this to me simply by extending an invitation of hospitality to Claire, to reside in one of my homes.

"No, I decided to risk my life by telling you a load of bull, of _course _I'm positive, Amelie!" Samuel mutters the first part before bursting out the last part in a slightly weary voice. I do not know why he is so concerned, so unnerved; I am the mother of the attacked child, the child who knows **nothing **of her birthright... Why does he feel he can behave as I am?

"Why are you here Samuel?" I ask him sharply, the words spilling out of me before I can check myself.

"I... What do you mean?" he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. Ahhh, I wish that I had not began this topic; I cannot confess to Samuel how I feel because that is against everything I have ever done, as well as how I confessed my feelings to myself only minutes ago. Yet I cannot lie and pretend that I do not want him here... I need him. He is, he is the one for me and when he is close it feels like we are two magnets being drawn closer together, unable to be separated.

I cannot confess that. So I must continue with the line of attack that I so foolishly began and push away the man I love, again.

"Why are you here, why are you helping me?" I continue, my heart breaking with every word. "If you dare say because of love, then get out and never return," I threaten, his face breaking. That is nothing compared to my insides. It is as it is when I hold my dying Claire in my arms - my insides are fracturing, fragmenting into millions of pieces. I can barely hold myself together; barely compose myself, enough to continue this... I do not know what to call it. Words fail me. If only I could revert back to my original tongue of French, but I cannot - Samuel will not understand my jabberings. Also, the length of time English has been my used language has greatly surpassed the time French was my calling; even my 'original' daughter was a native English speaker. I do not even feel that I would be able to confidently call on my native tongue to be able to express the feelings that I have for Samuel; I do not believe I could properly convey the gravity of the situation and just how complex it really is. Yet I _want_ to speak French… I assume I could relate it to the child who always wishes to have a specific blanket – a comforting item. French is _my_ comforter, _my_ safety blanket to fall back into, and I can only wish that I could use it.

"What is going on?" Samuel asks, sounding confused. It breaks my heart even more for him to be puzzled, to not understand what I mean. After all, _I_, don't know what I mean… how on earth is he going to understand that I am lying to him, that I cannot live without him but cannot express this to him properly? The answer is simple. He cannot. "I am here because I found you with your child, Claire, and I am _trying_ to help you with this one so that _she_ doesn't die as well. But, by God Amelie, you make it so hard for me to even **try** and do this…" he says, trailing off. He looks confused, as if he doesn't know _why_ he is here anymore. Please don't go, Samuel. I pretend that I don't need you, but that isn't the case. You are one of the things I need, the few constants that never change.

Don't give up on me.

"I don't know why I bother," he continues, and I collapse on the inside. It is sheer willpower that I manage to stay standing, a cool and collected expression frozen on my face. I need him… not only for me, but for Claire. She needs this man, to have any chance of survival. Samuel is going to have to escort her to Myrnin's, so that she can assist in the search for the cure for the vampires; after all, if that is not solved, then she has no chance of being safe. I will not die for many centuries, I doubt, and for my Claire to be turning up to that would be catastrophic. I would rather there be no Claire than her to see me as a _monster_, even though she wouldn't know who I was. Yet I also need him to be able to check up on Claire. He can do it through his 'check ups' on Michael – since Michael never leaves the house, Sam has to go there and most likely Claire will be there. He can then see how she is doing or even see her in Common Grounds. I am unable to do this myself; after all, the point of the distancing between myself and the residents (including the vampires) of Morganville began so I didn't have to put up with the mundane whining from them… as well as for Claire. If people began to notice somebody called Claire coming into Morganville and spending three years with Amelie before suddenly dying, I have to say even _humans_ would begin to realise something was occurring. I couldn't have the entire town knowing my business, therefore I distanced myself. But to suddenly reintegrate myself to only this set of particular children as soon as Claire arrived is too soon; it must be gradual. Yet, I need to know what is going on with Claire. There is Samuel's other… use… in terms of Claire, I mean.

"Samuel, please," I say, as he begins to inch towards the door. Inside, a manic laugh is building and I fight to suppress it – that would be _entirely_ unladylike to let such a violent emotion out… in public, at least. The laugh is because he has fought so hard to be able to stand where he is and, after only two times, he is already contemplating leaving. The irony is that I have pushed him away so many times when I have been _positive_ I didn't need him but now… now the time has came when I _do_ need him, he is about to walk away! Madness!

"Please what, Amelie?" he asks, turning in his retreat out of the door to look at me. His expression… it scares me, in a sense. He is normally so open and kind but now, now he is frozen and detached. Like me, I realise. "Do you need me to do more dirty work for you, just because you can't? Is that the only reason you keep me hanging onto you, for the fear that something may need to be done that you cannot have someone else do, you just need the man that will always love you? Because if it is… then I'm done," he exhales sharply, breaking the silence left by the end of his sentence. He is right. I only ever have him here if I need something to be done by someone I trust entirely. He is my new Myrnin – in the past, my best friend would do these jobs, the ones I entrust only to those I _know_ I can rely on. Now… now this is the man that I love's job.

Yet he doesn't know my feelings… I don't think.

"You _will_ do as I ask you, Samuel," I say, finding my voice. I sound so _cold_, so _empty_… it is as if I don't have any feelings for him, not really. It sounds… it sounds like I am his Founder, and his Founder only.

"Will I?" he asks with his eyebrows raised and an edge in his voice that sounds almost mocking.

"Yes, you will," I tell him, staring into those perfect blue eyes as if they were the only thing I needed in the world to survive. If I could fall into them now, I would. If I could leave behind every single pain and suffering I have faced to be able to just sink into his eyes, I would. "I could force you to do it, through the power I have over you as your ruler and your creator. Yet I would much rather you chose to do this out of your own heart, your own decision, than me having to choose that route. If you care for me whatsoever, you will do that. Please, Samuel, please," I plead but make sure I do not sound like I am begging. _Never_ reveal your true feelings to a man… they will exploit them and try and use them against you… I found that out the hard way.

I can only hope that he chooses to do it of his own accord. He _will_ do it either way, but I would much prefer it to be that he _chooses_ to do it, rather than he _has_ to do it. After all, I cannot bear to see him in pain, so to **make** him do something would be something of a torture for me.

He stares at me for a long moment and there is an expression on his face that I cannot read. That alone is strange – I can usually identify every emotion on his face, what with it being easier to read than an open book, but I cannot right now. Finally, he breaks eye contact with me and I breathe slowly, realising what a hold he has over me. If he asked me to jump off a bridge for him, I would do it without a question.

He can never know how much I love him.

"What do you want me to do?" he finally asks and I smile very slightly that he has managed to come around to my way of thinking.

"I need you to just look after Claire for me, whilst I cannot," I say, thinking just _what_ I want him to do. It will, hopefully, only be for a matter of weeks – until I have found the book that Myrnin has managed to lose and I can destroy it. "I need to find something… I need to find the book before Oliver does. If I do not, then Claire is in even more danger. Samuel, please just make sure that she is happy and getting along fine in her home. Eve trusts you, speak to Claire in Common Grounds and just try to get to know her. Find out things that you would want to know about your own son, if you can… it's what I need, Samuel," I say slowly, urgency evident in my tone but not the speed by which I am speaking. I need to keep calm as otherwise I will be weak and put my selfish needs above Claire. I will succumb to Samuel faster than blinking. That is how strong the hold he has over me is.

"Ok," he says simply. "I'll do that for you, Amelie. Just never forget that I love you and I **know** you feel the same back. Just never forget that everything I do is for you," he continues, moving closer to me. I cannot move with the close proximity between us and he capitalises on this, moving over to be mere inches from my face. He wraps his hands into my hair and then lightly presses his lips to my forehead… I couldn't have resisted if it was my lips.

"Goodbye Samuel," I whisper as he wrenches himself away from me and heads to the door. I stare after him but no longer am I looking at his physical appearance… no, I see the emotions.

I see the vessel that will get me my daughter. Once and for all…

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**Sorry, sorry, I semi forgot the point of this story… I just wanted some nice Sam and Amelie in here, before we kick off with meeting Claire…I think that that will be in the next chapter or something!**

**Please review! You KNOW I'll love you (in a non-lesbian way) if you do!**

**I also wrote a oneshot called 'Friendships begin somewhere' which is about Amelie meeting Myrnin. It has ties to this story (subtly) so have a look!**

**Until next week!**

**Vicky xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: **

**Ok. Please don't hate me. I've decided that, whilst I will endeavour (as much as possible) to follow the books, I will not do EVERY single thing. One reason: there's a REASON the books are like 300 pages & there's 6 before the point that this story will end. Secondly, that would make this story end up being like one of my other MV ones, like 95 chapters... Something NONE of us want! So, if time skips occur, I shall inform you :) **

**ok... On with the chappy!**

**Was a LITTLE disappointed with the lack of reviews last chapter, but I shall not hold back with my updating for that!**

**I don't own anything!**

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_Sam's POV - yay!_

She is my life. I love her with all my heart. She is the one I want... Yet she doesn't want me back. She loves her daughter too much to even consider being happy with me.

Now, you ask yourself, why is Samuel Glass dreaming of his one love in such a place as Common Grounds? Why is he allowing such, ahem, sensitive material to be so close to the surface when Oliver and other unsavoury vampires are around?

The answer, my friends, is simple. It is because this is the place where I shall meet Claire Danvers, Amelie's reincarnated daughter, for the first time. Yes, I have been keeping tabs on her for a number of days and I noticed how she always comes in here before class on a Monday. Always - she goes to see Eve, then sits down at the table where I am currently sitting. She won't look up as she walks over, she never does, and will sit down in her seat (I took the spare) without even noticing my presence. At least, that's what I'm hoping for. The only issue is that Eve isn't in here today... However, I have a plan for when Claire _does _see me. I have a present for Eve that I can get Claire to give her - this way, I can see what her personality is like, and just _how _aware of vampires she is in her two weeks in town.

"A mocha please," I hear the child who is the focus of my attention ask for at the counter. I pick up my own cappuchino and sip, listening into her conversation with the cashier.

Then she does as I expected: she walks with her attention entirely on the mocha and heads over to this table, dodging all of the feet and bags that threaten to trip her up. She's smart; that much is obvious! Not just the fact that she's two years ahead of her fellow college goers, but that she knows exactly how to slip around the people without having to get them to move. That's something that's important when you'd be asking some of the residents of this town who are more, ahem, _bitchy? _I don't know... But a small, smart girl like Claire ought to stay away from them as much as possible - she's already made an enemy of Monica Morrell and that's not the wisest move.

Yet now she is nearly at the table and I half expect her _to _look up as she nears, to realise that there's someone already situated at the table. But she doesn't, and simply sits down in her chair and takes a sip of her mocha, entirely oblivious to the presence of a vampire next to her in the slight shadows. I wait until she has set down her mocha, before making a very small movement, to alert her perphiral vision before she is fully scared by me. Well, with the experience she's already had with Brandon she's bound to be scared of vampires. Especially one who looks identical to Michael, besides the hair, and only appears about 2 years older than him. I should probably go see Michael soon... But Claire is the focus right now. She is the daughter of the most hidden and obtuse woman in the world; the biggest mystery I want to unravel.

I move my head very slightly and incline it in her direction. I look at her straight on and see a beauty that reminds me, retrospectively, of Amelie. Nobody who didn't know of their connection would ascertain the similarities: they would simply see the dark brown hair and eyes, the more timid stance she has... Nobody, with perhaps the exception of Myrnin or Oliver, has looked into Amelie's face, and now Claire's, to recognise the similar bone structure or the face shape. They won't recognise the _exact _same height they have or the strength I already see in Claire, even with this being the first time I've seen her in the flesh.

She realises that there's someone sitting at the table next to her and turns her head, jumping almost entirely out of her skin. Her heart rate and breathing near doubles as, the brainy girl like her mother, she realises what I am.

"W-who are you?" she stammers, edging her chair away infinitismally.

"My name is Sam Glass," I say in the friendly tone I reserve for humans. I don't want them to be scared of me; I want them to realise that I don't accept what I am, that I want to be friends with them. Some respond... But some don't. It looks like Claire may be one of the latter people; this could hinder my progress in 'getting to get a basic grasp on her' so Amelie may find a way to do it without me. That _cannot _happen... This is my chance to be able to get her to realise her feelings for me, my chance to be with her forever.

"What... _Glass_?" she repeats, frowning to herself.

"Yes, Michael is my grandson," I say in response, a touch of pride entering my voice as I mention my shining grandson. "Claire, I don't want to hurt you... I just want to talk to you," I say, pleading evident in my voice. It's the truth: I could never hurt _any _human, much less Amelie's daughter.

"What could a vampire want to talk to me about?" she hisses very quietly, her face still bone white. She's scared; I can see that from everything about her posture. She also looks defensive, as if she's ready to attack me. Her eyes flicker over my head and I sense that Oliver is looking in our direction. She seems to get reassurance that he's looking, which makes me want to burst into hysterics. She's feeling protected by _Oliver_. Oliver, the one who wants to destroy everything good about this town; the one that wants to take it from it's rightful ruler, her mother; the one that pretends to be human so that even most of the _residents_, much less the university kids, don't know that he's a vampire. Yeah, she should _totally _be feeling protected by him.

Yet, I am not going to blow his cover. One reason is that I'd never be able to get in here again... Scratch that, I'd be murdered (hell, I've got no chance against a 500-odd year old vampire!) almost instantly. However, his actions regarding the book are ridiculous... Claire will probably end up getting involved and if she inadvertantly bats for Oliver's team, well, Amelie will hate herself for not looking out for her.

Back to Claire here. She wants to know why I am talking to her. Very slowly, I remove the box containing Eve's present, the thing that she said she'd always wanted, from my pocket and set it on the table.

"I'm not like the other vampires, Claire," I say quietly, ignoring the listening vampire's noises of agreement. "I'm different. I don't like this way of life, so I do my best to be friends with humans... Anyway, I have something for Eve and I was wondering if you would give it to her?" I ask, opening the box to reveal the necklace. It's silver (so obviously I can't touch it) and has a coffin as a pendant... She mentioned about one of these so long ago, before I asked Michael to let her move in, and I just managed to find it. The silver will, hopefully, make her feel more protected against Brandon and the other sadonistic vampires in this town.

"Why don't you give her it yourself?" Claire's voice asks, sounding confused but still slightly scared, slightly skeptical.

"She's not here today... And I'm worried I could lose it or something," I reply, thinking up the first excuse as to why I can't keep the necklace for another day or so.

She looks torn. I wonder what she'll do. On one hand, there's accepting a present for a friend from a _vampire _(automatic no-no) which could be dangerous and on the other... Well I sort of can't really think of something that would make her WANT to do this for me. She knows nothing about me and as far as she is are I may as well be a vampire like Brandon.

Finally, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to give it to Eve yourself," she decides, standing up. As much as I want to stand up as well, to move and spend more time with her, I decide to stay seated and not press her. After all, if everything goes to plan, I hope to spend more time with her in the future. "Goodbye, Sam," she says, with a small smile before almost running out of the door. Shame, she left her mocha...

I sigh a small sigh, slipping the box back into my pocket, and decide that this is the time to speak to Amelie. At home, however, not here... Oliver could use this to his advantage.

As usual, I think of Amelie and only Amelie.

_Amelie's POV:_

Soon, perhaps this very second, Samuel is going to have his first interaction with my daughter. He will find out her personality, her beliefs and perhaps even a little of what she likes and dislikes. I can only hope that he will get information on her, whilst I cannot. Unfortunately, Oliver seems to be hell-bent on getting the book right now, so I need to deal with that primarily. I wish that that wasn't the case, but it is… if Oliver tries to take my town, I will be unable to spend _any_ time with my daughter – I will be in hiding from Oliver, with my fellows, the ones on my side.

So, unfortunately, I cannot see her yet. However, I have a feeling that, no matter _how_ much I don't want her to get involved, Claire will end up becoming embroiled in this search for the book. Eve Rosser and Shane Collins are two of the most troublesome humans in the entire town of Morganville, and I have a _slight_ feeling, well more than that if I am honest, that Claire will be sucked into the search. They will most likely give it to Oliver because they believe him to be human (something I _have_ to admit, no matter how begrudgingly, that he is rather good at pretending to be) and that _he will do the right thing with it_. However, I can only hope that Michael, who Oliver tried to kill, will manage to persuade the others that the book should be given to me. If I have to, I shall head to their house myself… it will also mean that I can see Claire for the first time. I cannot wait to be able to see her.

I can only hope that this entire problem with Oliver and the book will fade into the distance soon. After all, I have three years with my daughter. Every moment counts…

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**What did you think?**

**Please review! You know I'll love you (in a non-lesbian way) if you do!**

**Also, I wrote a story called 'Friendships Begin Somewhere' which is about how Amelie met Myrnin: I promised someone I would write this and, in a _very_ subtle way, it ties in with this story.**

**Until next week!**

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! (it's half term... I may update _sooner_ than Sunday if you do!) I know you read it, so plz review!**

**Vicky xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

**Firstly, I can't remember when I last updated, so have an update now from me! I think it's because I've just started 2 new stories (rather stupidly) so I forgot to update this one! Forgive me! Before I forget, I shall say now that no dialogue/events are going to be EXACTLY the same as in R.C's... This is because my drains broke so we are staying in a hotel and I didn't have the foresight to bring MV with me (I did, however, bring my prom dress that I don't need for 5 months!) so it's working from memory for me!**

_Amelie's POV:_

Ce bâtard absolu! I cannot believe that he would do such a thing.

Oliver. He, in his quest for the book, is attacking the Glass House. He is attacking my daughter, even though he _must_ know of her identity. He must know that Claire Danvers is my daughter, unless he has managed to forget _every_ memory we had together when his feelings for me 'disappitated' when he returned to town. He knows that this girl is my daughter but yet he still is attacking her, trying to get the book that rightfully belongs to her, to attempt to cement himself as the true ruler of this town. His actions are so... Passé; I mean, why on earth would burning down one of my prior homes, the home where my daughter and my love's grandson live, make me more likely to concede defeat to him?

He has no right to act like this whatsoever; he has no right to try and kill people on 'my side' even though they are not aware of this. He has no right to be using such brute force against _teenagers_. Do I need to repeat that _my daughter is 16 years old _and the others are not much older? He is bringing up fighters he wouldn't dare use against me, to bring back a book to him that he doesn't deserve, doesn't need.

I do.

This book contains so many 'spells' and whatnot... This is the book my Father, if such a word can be used in conjunction with such a horrific person, used to curse my darling daughter all those years ago. This is the book Myrnin had, until he _lost _it (I will not lie... I almost murdered him myself when he revealed that), and he was working through it to find a cure for Claire's curse. He made many notes in it, until his disease took over and he needed to focus on solving that. During a short period of stability, when Myrnin believed he had cured our entire race, with my last daughter he thought he'd made a breakthrough but it didn't work.

I need that book back.

The Glass House residents have managed to hold onto the book, giving away only the cover to Monica Morrell, Oliver's chief human, something that I didn't believe would happen. I believed that they would _have _to give up; I couldn't go into the fight because my bodyguards would not allow it... However, I couldn't send in my fighters either. They wouldn't have been allowed in the house, due to the prevention of entering the house without permission, and if they did get in, Oliver's men could enter also.

Now daylight has come around once again and the fighting has entirely subsided, I feel I ought to go and see my daughter and her friends. I will be unable to reveal our connection, yet I shall be able to see her in the flesh for the first time. Seeing her 2 dimensional figure is not enough for me - I have followed her every inch of her time in Morganville; every CCTV camera around has been focused on her and I feel as if I almost already know her. She loves mocha - she started on hot chocolate then progressed to coffee - and she found some 'stylish' (I am assured the clothing she purchased is describable by this word) clothing in the second hand shops. **(a/n... I know in Glass Houses Claire meets Amelie in the church, but if I do **_**everything **_**that happened in the books, we'd be here years! And billions of words!)**

I walk gracefully to the limousine to be taken to the Glass House. I do not believe it to be a good idea to use the portal system, as the residents do not know of it's existence and I do not wish for them to make such a mistake as to attempt to kill me, believing me to be the enemy.

"Here, ma'am," Vince, one of my personal bodyguards says to me as he opens the back door for me to enter the main area of the limo. I utter my thanks and settle in the back seat, rearranging my cream jacket over the brown blouse I so carefully selected this morning; I didn't particularly wish to appear slovenly, but it was also not my wish to appear entirely business like... After all, who could even _dream _of being close to someone who even _dresses _like the 'Ice Queen' she is on the inside? There isn't one single crease or ridge in my attire, something which I confirm on the short journey from my home to the Glass House, the second-to-last Founder's House I lived in.

The sun is out, but it shall not bother me as it sets. I am old, old enough that many a moment in the sun will not make one iota of difference to my appearance. We pull up outside the house I lived in merely one hundred years ago and Vince has the door open just as the car pulls to a standstill. I step out without his assistance and flit from the realms of the sunlight, the potentially devastating rays, to the cool shade of the porch. This is the porch which I had specifically designed so that I could sit outside in the daylight without having to suffer the pain of the UV light hitting my skin. It meant that, whilst I lived in this house, I was able to meet with Claire during the daylight. Never before have I informed my daughter that I am a vampire – I do not believe that I have a _choice_ this time. I have to tell her I am a vampire; 'Amelie the Founder' has already been introduced to Claire; 'Amelie the vampire' is who Claire knows, so I cannot lie about _not_ being a vampire. As I stand here, the final rays of sunlight set and I know that the vampires of the town shall soon be setting out on their nightly prowling.

I feel the presence of my guards behind me, rather than hearing their movements, as I knock on the door to the Glass House. It is rather surreal, if I am honest, to be knocking on a door; normally, every door is opened _for _me as my arrival in locations is usually forewarned. However, this is not the case here... How could four humans be expected to be forewarned of the impending arrival of the _Founder_?

I can hear the heartbeat of a male heading to open the door; I can hear their hesitation and fear, through their increased heart and breathing rates, evident in them; I can hear their surprise as they identify me through the eyepiece in the door. I can hear everything and nothing at the same time.

All I _TRULY _hear is Claire.

I can hear her soft breathing; the way that her chest rises and falls softly in tandem with the intake and exhalation of air. I can hear the steady heartbeat she has, the heartbeat that confirms she is a human and alive: Oliver hasn't managed to harm my daughter.

"Um... Hello?" Shane Collins says hesitantly as he identifies me. The sudden change from his brash and obnoxious self to this meek person is rather astounding; I presume that this is the trigger that results in Michael and Eve coming over to see who Shane has greeted at the door. I appreciate the way they have kept my daughter out of possible harm's way - even though I would _never _harm my own flesh and blood.

"Um..." Michael says and I shake my head. This is not the correct way to greet someone of such high standing within the community, let alone a lady. However, he will be forgiven because he has never spoken to me, only I to him when he was a small child. I gave him my blessing as Sam's request, to have the power of the Founder behind him.

"I shall presume 'um' is the modern way invitation of entering your home, albeit rather rude," I say, delectable air quotes in my tone.

I step forwards through the door and watch how Shane moves out of my way. Eve stands behind him, as if I would wish to hurt her... Any of them! One reason is that these are my daughter's friends and to hurt them would be to hurt her. Another is that I, personally, have not killed a human since the first world war, when blood storage was 'invented' - why would I destroy this 'record' now? Finally, Michael is Samuel's grandson. I would _never _do _anything _to harm Samuel and if Michael was harmed, he would be hurt.

"How... How have you gotten in?" Shane asks. I smile a very small, prim, smile before settling back to a carefully neutral expression for when I see Claire. I do not wish to appear too eager to see a child I have never seen before - I have never _supposed _to have seen or even known of her existence, perhaps - so I need to appear as I am to the rest of the town!

"I lived here, Mr Collins," I say stiffly as I face him in the narrow hallway. "This house, as all Founder's Houses, is open for me to pass through as and when I please. You may fear not, however. Although I may bring others into the house, I shall only bring my personal guards... Oliver is of no consequence to me and his actions should not negatively impact on myself," I try to describe, as best I can, that however badly Oliver has treated these children, they are not to be afraid of me. After all, if a child is scared of their mother then how can they love them?

I can see from Shane and Eve's faces that they still do not understand how I can enter their home; I can see also how they do not believe that I am separate from Oliver. _Comment dégradant! _How degrading that they would associate such a lowlife, _revolutioner _(and as we know, revolutions do not bring about the best of results), as Oliver!

Through the passageway, in the living room, is Claire. Claire, my daughter, is mere metres from me. Yet I continue to walk at a steady pace, noting how the humans rush through to be united with Claire against me! Against her own Mother, they unite!

I take a deep breath and round the corner to face the scene before me. I feel as if _any _life I had has been taken away from me... For the fifty second time, I have been reunited with my daughter.

Claire has shoulder length brown hair, chocolate in colour, which hangs rather lank currently... I presume it is from the fighting, not that it is natural. Her eyes sparkle like stars, _les meuiller étoiles dans le monde... _I cannot say that I have seen a person, in my entire life, that seems to sparkle as much as her's appear to. They are warm and open, revealing a true doorway to her soul. She seems so... _Vital_! She appears to truly be alive, to truly be the person who I have loved for many a century. She _truly _seems to be _ma chérie, Claire._ She appears to be the best possible version of herself that she can be; I cannot simply tell this from a fleeting glance into her face, which I wish could last a lifetime, but from everything I know about her: her good values, shown by how she reacted with Samuel and the necklace; her warm and open heart from when she helped Lucy Pye across the road when she was stranded; her complete courage and heart of a lion by fighting against Oliver because it was what she believed in, rather than succumbing to the _much _easier option. She is truly Claire.

I cannot lose her again.

Truth be told, my heart cannot face losing her again. It has already fragmented into so many pieces, both through every death of her and Samuel's lack of presence in my life, it cannot take much more. I fear that it will shatter shortly... And I shall shatter with it. I will be an empty shell, unable to survive without Claire much longer. This is my last chance to break the curse; if we cannot solve it in three years, alongside the disease (how originally named), I shall have no more to give. I do not believe I have this immiscible strength, never running out, but simply am at the end of my fuel... Like a fire just before it peters out into nothingness - I cannot keep fighting much more. Every year, every month, every day, every _second _of my life is a struggle, a fight for me to _keep fighting_! I think of Claire, this girl before me, and that wills me to go on.

Without her, I am nothing.

But this is the last time. This is the last time I can cope with losing her, the last time that I can hold her in my arms as her life ebbs away to infinity of darkness. I cannot cope with this much longer - if she dies, I break inside. If she dies... Then I _must _follow - I _will _find a way to bind her life to my own, so if she dies then I do also.

"Hi," Claire says hesitantly, turning towards me. I smile very slightly as I process just how she appears, before this smile turns to dismay. I listen to her heart rate, her breathing, and realise that she is fearful of me. She knows that I am a vampire and she fears me. This is _not_ what I wanted.

I do not speak; I do not believe I possess the capability to speak whilst my heart is being wrenched out of its place in my chest so forcefully. Instead, I simply make my way up the stairs silently, listening to their discussions as to whether or not to follow me and listen to what I want.

I walk to the secret room and press the button to allow myself to head up the stairs. I slip up near silently, the clinking of my heels upon the stairs the only realistic way of telling that someone is heading up the staircase. Once I am in here, I settle down on the sofa to explain to the children what I want… but most of all, I shall be speaking to my daughter. My informal protection is only what I, as her mother, ought to be giving her without question – I would _never_ not give her it. I am extending this to her friends so that I can _finally_ give something to my daughter, now that I know who she is, that she wants.

Why _wouldn't_ she want her friends to be protected?

I also need the book. I need this book, the one thing that has the _possibility_ of saving her life, and mine. It is the one thing that Myrnin can use to further his mediocre developments. Claire is excellent at science, her professors say. Perhaps…

Could I let my own daughter work on a cure to a curse on her that she has no idea about? Could I stoop so low, even if it means that I can save her life?

**What did you think? I decided to not include the conversation between Amelie and the Glass House residents, because a) we know what they say (and Amelie gets the book) and b) I will end up being **_**way**_** off from what the book said so… anyway!**

**Please review!**

**Vicky xx**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

**Still in the hotel, so things that contain dialogue aren't entirely accurate... sorry!**

**I don't own anything!**

**I was hoping for some more reviews, but I settled for the couple I got!**

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_Amelie's POV:_

I have decided that I can. I can stoop low enough down that I allow Claire to save all vampires, through finding the cure, and then herself. I am no scientific genius – I know only the basics, from centuries of living with Myrnin – and I cannot influence anything to do with saving my people or even my daughter. Therefore, she is necessary… she is needed to contribute _her_ individual genius (which she must have, given she was accepted to university at such a young age) to Myrnin and then they can, hopefully, finally create a cure for my race. After all, there is no point having a cure for Claire to never have to be reborn if I would only kill her, when the disease overtakes me.

Yet she cannot do this yet. She is too new to Morganville, to new to knowing about the vampires, knowing only one 'good one' but plenty of 'bad ones'. If she found out that the vampires are dying, then most likely she would just walk away and wait for this to happen. She wouldn't consider helping me whatsoever; she would be happy that we, including myself, were dying.

She must be… no, I cannot allow that. I cannot be so cruel as to demand that. No, that will _not_be viable – I refuse to do that, even if it keeps her safe.

She will come around to my way of thinking… sooner or later. Soon enough, she will be sympathetic enough to myself, if not Oliver – I hope not that she would be sympathetic to such a symptomatic idiot, to consider what I have to say and ask her to do. I can only hope.

But isn't she so _vital_? Isn't she the best I could ever have hoped for… she is truly the _exact_ replica of my 'first' child. Oh, I already know that this is the last time… I cannot lose her again. She cannot be lost to me after this time. If she dies, then I die. It is simple. But it does not mean that I cannot imagine her face in my mind continually – she is all that I want, she is my perfect child.

I head home with my guards before settling down in my office. I motion for everyone to dispense before settling my head in my hands. Everything is so... So _complex_, in my life. I love Claire and Samuel so much but I cannot show my love to either of them; not yet, at least.

I don't know what to do... But I know that time is needed before _anything _can happen; not even to start Claire on saving my race...

OoOoOo

"Oliver, how _dare _you talk about the girl like that!" I hiss at him, not wanting to call my daughter by her name for fear that he may remember this connection and use it against me.

"She stole the book from me and gave it to you, they all deserve to die," he snarls in response. "Every one of them deserve to burn... But all you do is give them your Protection!"

I stand up from behind my desk and full on snarl at him, fangs fully extended. He has no right to talk to me like this, none whatsoever! He doesn't deserve to insinuate that my reasoning is invalid and that my actions were the wrong... He shouldn't be doing this, not at all!

"Be quiet, or feel the full force of my wrath," I murmur, with deadly intention evident in the low tone of my voice. "Do not _dare _insinuate anything misguided within my actions and opinions, or it will be the last thing you do. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" as I finish speaking, I feel the icy cold feeling sweep across the room, reminding Oliver just who is in control here.

"Yes, milady," he sneers, his face scrunched up most unflatteringly.

"I am glad we have that sorted out," I say placidly, anger still coursing through my veins but at a much slower rate. I sit down in my chair and face Oliver once again, 'equals' again. "You can go, Oliver, I have no need to speak to you anymore," I dismiss him nonchalantly, reminding him that he is nothing more than a servant to me.

"Very well," he responds, standing and moving towards the portal most rapidly.

"Your word that you shall not harm my... My _house residents _whatsoever," I confirm, my voice sounding sharp as I halt him in his tracks. I very nearly said 'my daughter' but I managed to stop myself in the last possible moment.

His face twists into his approximation of a smile and his hand rests on the doorknob. "Oh, Amelie," he begins, consentingly. "I have _no _wish to harm your, ah, _daughter _or, how did you put it, _house residents_," and with that, he walks out of the of the office, leaving me staring after him furiously. He knows... Or he remembers... Either way, he knows that Claire is my daughter. Oh, I worry so much more now, for no matter what he says, she is not truly safe anymore. Now that he is consciously aware that Claire was bore from me, she will be one of his targets. Whilst she, perhaps - the theory has never been tested, may not be able to be _killed _by him, there are fates that she may face which are worse than death. She must be kept safe... That is the point of everything I am doing; if she isn't cared for, then I have nothing.

A knock on the door interrupts my inner feuding at the manner by which Oliver left the office. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it's Sam; when is he planning on leaving me alone, now I've let him closer to my guarded heart? My answer, which I would even bet our love on, would have to be never.

"What is it _now_, Samuel?" I ask, exasperated that he has returned. After all, there is a limit to even my pretence that I do not love him nor need him... I feel that the limit is nearly being broken, that one day soon I will break down in his arms and confess every detail of my love for him.

"How did everything go?" he asks me; of course he would know of what has been going on and my exact movements. He's too much inside my head not to.

"Everything went according to my meticulous planning," I say sharply. I lift the hand from my pocket and produce the book. "I have regained the book and I shall pass it on - this time a _photocopy _- to Myrnin for him to continue working," I continue and Sam nods. He loiters in the doorway but I don't grant him permission to sit down. To have the chance to stare into those sapphire eyes, that would be marvellous... It would also make me transfixed, a drug addict dependant on drugs. I wouldn't be able to look away. I would need him in my life, as he, for some unfathomable reason, needs me.

It was hard enough last time; I had just enough inner strength to push him away... That strength no longer exists. It crumbled away with time, with the knowledge that he was - as we all are - dying, and just pure _want _for him. The love I have for him isn't the flash of a white hot poker, strong and true but only for a short time before it peters out... It's not. The love we have is slow burning, intensifying with every passing second, but could never be deemed non existent. Whilst it may hide behind the protection of silence and anonymity, it is truer than the love of those who find _lust_, now love.

"Can I take a look at the book?" he asks me, interrupting my retrieve suddenly.

"If you wish," I agree, shocking even myself as I process what I have just said. "However, this was compiled by my Father and various high level alchemists, including Myrnin but many _many_ more than him…more talented than him, though he is the only one to have survived. I doubt that you shall even understand the majority of it, as I know I most certainly don't," I confess my weakness to him, without even realising it. Now _that_ is why you speak slowly, in a controlled manner, as it means that you _think_ about what you say, rather than simply gabbling on and revealing inner truths which could end up destroying you.

"If you don't understand, I doubt I will," Sam says with a small smile. However, he still takes the book from my outstretched hand and begins to page through it, looking more and more puzzled as he passes through. That is, until he reaches the last fifteen pages; the pages which I and Myrnin added once I managed to commandeer the book from the man I know I will never have to see again. "Wait, this is about Claire… is this all of the research and stuff that Myrnin has done throughout the years?" he confirms and I nod with a cool and sharp head.

"Yes, that is all that we have managed to do," I say quietly, knowing if I speak louder my voice will betray my inner emotions. That _cannot_ do, I cannot reveal my chinks in my armour that protects me and my people. I cannot release this control _ever_, on pain of death. "We calculated that she would _never_ die, unless I die as well… if I do, the curse is broken. However, I would… I would prefer to take the course that means that we break the curse, in a way that doesn't result in my death. I understand you appreciate this," I continue, looking up from my lap into his horrified face. It's frozen in shock… yes, I suppose, in hindsight, I shouldn't have told him that I would have to die to save Claire.

"There will be another way," he says firmly, almost to himself. It's as if he wants to reassure _himself_ that I won't be leaving him. After all, he did join this life to be with me, even though he didn't want it – I presume growing up in Morganville would give you a rather different perspective on life than what I have.

"That _is_ what I just said, Samuel," I respond sharply, my voice sounding as if it would be able to cut through diamonds at this moment in time. "Otherwise why would I have instructed Myrnin to find a solution to this curse for the past thousand years, nearly? Please have some sense… yet it is seeming more and more as if this curse only has one escape clause, one way to prevent her from suffering again," I sigh, breathing heavily as I outwardly recognise what Myrnin told me many years ago but I never accepted.

"There is always more than one way, Amelie," Sam says to me, leaning forwards with his voice sounding grave in the low tones he so rarely uses. "Nothing in life is a dead end; you _always_ have two choices, two pathways to take. No matter how grim life may become, or how _certain_ that you are that there is only the path you can see, remember that you always have the choice, that there is a path you should take and then the other path, the one that the weak take. Remember that…" he continues, sounding as if he has more wisdom than even I have. He truly sounds as if he belonged in an era _much_ different to the one he knew, as if he has lived through so much that he has managed to get this perspective.

"Yet what if the pathways are more obvious than that?" I ask, with a wry smile. "What if the paths in this case are my death or not? Every time, Sam, her death becomes much more violent, more painful. She suffers so much more just so that I shall not loose her, even though this was not what I ever wanted – _ever_. What if… what if the only paths left were that I stay alive and she continues to suffer, or if… if I die, she loses this pain and heartache?" I confess my beliefs in the subject. No matter how much I want to believe him, I fear that these are the pathways by which I have to make my decision, and no other way is going to be viable.

He surprises me. He stands up and smiles at me again.

"Don't be so self admonishing," he tells me, using an imperative verb at the beginning… something that nobody has _dared_ do to me in such a long time. "The pathways aren't _that_ obvious, Amelie. Otherwise, why do people struggle with decisions if the choices were as crystal clear as that?" he continues, shaking his head slightly.

Then he surprises me again. For the first time _ever_, he walks out of the office without me ordering him away. He made the choice to leave me… that is not something which I _ever_ wanted to happen. He could be moving on from me – something which I profess to the world is what I want, but inside I never want it… ever.

Yet he has given me much to think about. He has made me consider, with a newly invigorated belief, that the work Myrnin will do once he has cured our disease could save my girl's life. Perhaps the path will be dangerous, never walked down before, overgrown with brambles of misery and branches of doubt. However, if it _i_sthere, then I shall beat away every obstacle I need to in order to reach my goal.

He walked away from_ me._ I wish that that had not happened. Oh, I wish…

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**So what did you think? **

**Please review... I have quite a few chapters waiting to get uploaded in my , that will get seen quicker if you review!**

**Vicky xxx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

**YAY! One of my FAV characters is in this chappy!**

**I don't own anything!**

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_Amelie's POV:_

"I have no need for your assistance, gentlemen," I say with a cool smile to my guards as I sit in my office. Although they appear apprehensive about leaving me, they both nod and disappear into the shadows as quickly as they appeared when I summoned them. After all, I am going to see my oldest and dearest friend. He may be suffering from the disease most terribly, but I am certain I can 'hold my own' as I visit him. After all, I am already much stronger than him and his suffering from the disease has weakened him further; he poses no threat to me. But how am I going to ensure he does not hurt my daughter?

Pondering this thought, I stand fluidly and move towards the door as I sort my skirt out. Having a creased skirt is _not _my favourite thing to have, so I always ensure it isn't creased when I go out. I find creases _entirely _passé and against looking professional. I had to relent this stance in the days when I lived as a poor woman or when we were running from the humans to a new location, but it was painful; with the invention of irons, there is no excuse for me to look anything less than perfect. There isn't an excuse for having a hair out of place, with both hair grips and hairspray, or a speck of dirt on clothing, what with the ease of washing clothing nowadays!

Sighing, I step forwards and allow my hand to run over the grainy wood of the portal door. I shall have to get somebody, one who can control Myrnin if he decides to become aggressive, to replace this door soon; it is the wrong colour of brown to fit in with the interior design of my office... It is too light and this allows the imperfections to be much more noticeable. If I can see imperfections in things I know I have the capability to control, the imperfections in life, something I cannot control much as I hate to admit, become all the more noticeable. This is why everything must be exact: the saucer design must match the cup and the cup be at right angles to the teapot, when I have tea; there must be no creases in the clothing I wear; everything in a room must match and not 'clash'... Some people, including Oliver, have called it obsessive compulsive disorder, some have merely commented on my 'freakishness'. I hasten to add that _none _of the latter people have survived long, besides Oliver: all the history between us, including how he treated my daughter, means that to kill him would be destroying part of my soul. He is, under all the anguish and opposition, very dear to me and this is sometimes what hinders my actions. I know he doesn't feel the same way, that he lost it a long time ago, as for him to act as he does whilst feeling those emotions would be a despicable act against love and all associated emotions.

Yet back to my point. Nobody besides two, three I suppose, people in life have understood my obsession with perfection. One is Claire, of course. During her original life, she put up with it and even helped me to begin to get over it... Every reincarnation have also understood, comparing it to their obsession with their particular thing, in some cases reading, or flirting, or one time even _treason_! It took my every connection, plus a few murders, to get that particular carnation of Claire out of her accusations of plotting to kill the king.

The second person is, I suppose, Sam. He knows that I cannot abide so many things, yet loves me anyway and continually presses for me to be with him. Whilst he may not be aware of _all _my obsessions, the fact he knows about so many and is still around is proof enough that he is perfection and for me.

The final person? Oh, it is only Myrnin. The friend I have had since the early 1100's, he knows every single thing I obsess about and he accepts them. True, he _has _to, given his precision and requirements far outweigh mine, but he seems to actually make me feel normal. He doesn't draw attention to them, simply acts in accordance to them so I don't feel inadequate or strange. He makes it seem as if these peculiarities are what everyone has, that nobody doesn't have _something _they don't obsess over.

He has been my friend so long, it hardly seems possible that I have had time in life without him. Both before I met him and during the argument, when I formed Morganville after moving to America, were times of great deprivation for me... I missed him greatly in the 'fight' and before I met him there was a void in my life. I needed a friend who knew what I was, someone who was always with me, someone to help me save Claire. I found this in Myrnin and now that I am losing him, it is almost impossible to bear.

My hand slides down to grasp the old fashioned doorknob, brass with a large keyhole for a key when I lock it, before turning it. I cautiously push it forwards, knowing that I am entering a room which doesn't meet my criteria for perfection but also has my best friend in it. It has my best friend who is slowing losing his mind, his sane periods so much shorter than before. Amidst all the work I have to do, I try to visit him at least once per two weeks - he is still my friend and I like to see if he is making any progress. I also like to just spend time with him; in recent years, this time has depleted although I wish it hadn't. I miss the daily conversations and everything associated with such close friendship - yet I do my best to keep it alive.

"Myrnin, are you here?" I ask in a low tone, stepping through into mess. Piles of books line the floor, over double the amount that could possibly fit on the bookcases that cover the walls, and I have to move carefully between the towering stacks as to ensure I don't knock them over. I hear motion in the lab area and move forwards to the location of Myrnin, anixous to see what mood he is in. If he is under the influence of the disease, I shall not tell him of Claire's arrival and working with him. He would not remember and it would be an invaluable waste of time.

"Amelie, how nice to see you!" Myrnin's 'sane' voice comes out of the middle of the lab, lit with a mixture of candles and electric lights he designed himself. I fear every time I come here that the lab shall not be here when I return, that his, ahem, _interesting _wiring of the place shall cause his death but alas this has not occurred as yet.

"Are you yourself?" I ask suspiciously, looking over his appearance with disgust. He is wearing a pink and flowery frock coat, with Edwardian trousers and has bare feet. It is not the look of the aristocrat he once was nor the appearance he ought to have, as my friend. He should be regal and well dressed, not looking as if he has simply crawled out of a drunken haze and pulled on whatever clothing was to hand.

"Yes, I do believe I have control over myself currently," he answers with a small smile. He motions for me to come over and I do, settling myself down in the chair specified for my use only. I can tell he, even in his disease frenzied state, has never sat here (nor any guests he may have... Not that he has any, besides myself) due to the absence in their scent.

"Then you are to listen and to do so carefully," I say, barely keeping the frantic feeling I have inside of me hidden in my voice. However, I don't think it has been hidden properly - my oldest friend has always been perceptive when it comes to my hidden emotions (he is the one who alerted me to my love for Samuel) and I am positive he heard it.

"Very well, milady," he says in response, elaborately bowing with an air of sarcasm. This causes a surge of power to exude from me, covering the entire room as I wait for him to calm down, to listen to what important thing I have to say.

"Claire has returned," I state, unable to be cool as I speak her name. However, once this is complete, I return to my usual mantra of being cool and detached. I must practise, with Myrnin, for when I have to see Claire: I have heard of Shane's father's return to town and know that this shall cause her to meet with me shortly. Under what circumstances, I am not aware but it will happen. "We are not progressing with this cure whatsoever. I feel that it is necessary for her to help you, as otherwise there is no chance of you moving onto finding a way to break this curse before she dies," I inform him, noting how his expression freezes. I was going to continue, but I don't have the self restraint to not show the emotion.

"Amelie, I am sick: I cannot control myself and I fear that I should harm her when I am not myself," he protests, as I knew he would. "I could not hurt you that way, Amelie, so I have to refuse. I shall find a cure for this and then work on her curse, I swear. However, it isn't as if there is a lifespan on the curse - I could work on the disease solely at the minute and have a cure by the time that she comes around _next_... Surely that would be better?"

I shake my head, emotion spilling through in the violence of the motion. I keep shaking my head, letting my hair fall out of its perfect bun as the pain and fear of losing Claire hits me once again.

"That cannot happen," I whisper, my anxiety forcing through the cracks in my armour as to my emotion. "Myrnin, she cannot come back again. I cannot bear to lose her again and my heart will not stand it; this is the final time. Myrnin, she needs to help you find a cure for us, as well as something for herself at the same time. Please Myrnin... If it needs to be, and I hate to say this, I can make it an order," I explain before regaining my authority. If he refuses to do it, I can force him too: even though Claire isn't under my Protection yet so I can't order her as of now, I can set the wheels in motion to have everything ready for when she does.

"If you wish to place your child in danger, I cannot change your opinion," he says, playing the guilt card for me being Claire's mother and still wanting her to do this.

"She will have Samuel," I say in defence. "I wouldn't send her here alone, would I Myrnin? I trust you _now _but when you are under the influence of the disease, you aren't yourself. Oh no, Samuel shall be accompanying her here and shall stop you from hurting her. Do you understand these conditions?" I continue, shocked and hurt that he could think I care so little about my daughter that I would allow her to come here and be with a mentally unstable vampire. She isn't the same as the other assistants he has had; they were strong, but they were also replacable. Claire cannot be killed but more than that, if there was a _hint _of her having no protection from him, I wouldn't let her come. If Samuel wasn't around, she wouldn't be coming. Her safety is everything to me; that is why she will be coming here, to keep her life safe!

"Yes, milady," Myrnin mutters, before I can tell that the disease is coming back. His eyes cloud over and loose their friendly edge and the monster is getting ready to attack.

"Very well, Myrnin, I shall see you shortly," I say, standing up. "Thank you for agreeing to this. Hopefully, within the next few weeks, Claire shall be joining you. Good day," I end as I end all business meetings - with a cool, clipped 'good-day' before walking out. As I walk, I feel my composure slipping; Myrnin raised many feelings within me again and these aren't what I want to feel. I don't want to remember how I felt only days ago - I'd prefer to keep them hidden away from even me.

I feel his eyes on my back as I walk, so I make sure that I do not falter or display weakness - that is what makes him a predator. So I keep strong as I walk through to my office before slamming the door shut.

Then I do something I have not done in many a year. Once the door is shut, I slide down to the floor, ignorant of the creasing of my clothing, and let the tears out. Every emotion Myrnin raised begins to flood out, wracking my body as the sobs come.

I ache in my heart for somebody to come and console me... But nobody does.

I am alone, as I always wanted. Yet it isn't what I want now.

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**What did you think?**

**Please review! **

**Vicky xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

**I own nothing.**

**Again, I repeat that dialogue is not exactly the same because of the situation of living in a hotel when I wrote it, meaning that I have no access to the books ****I have only read three books in about 5 weeks… meaning that lots more writing has been done… and homework… urgh!**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

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_Amelie's POV:_

It is close. The time that I must offer Claire my Protection, officially, nears ever closer. It isn't something I particularly _want_ to do, as a Mother ought to give her child protection without a contract or a bracelet, but if I don't then Claire will _never_ be able to be set free. This will be my last three years on this Earth, and I do not particularly wish to relinquish control of Morganville to Oliver – that would be the worst thing to happen to the world since before my Father was born.

Oliver has threatened her too many times. He has made her feel unwelcome in Common - _for heaven's sake_! I ask to be left alone unless there is an emergency, but I hear knocking at the door to my small lounge. Unless half of Morganville has gone up in flames, I doubt the trivial matter I am being disturbed with is important.

"What is it _now_, Verity?" I ask, impatience clouding my tone as she enters the room. A slightly panicked expression appears on her face and I realise that my own expression is far from its neutrally collected usual one.

"Um, Founder, I have some bad news to inform you of," she stammers, infuriating me further. However, the first thing that my mind leaps to is Claire. Has she been hurt? Has Oliver followed through on one of his threats and killed her?

"Very well, what is it?" I ask through unmoving lips, preparing to run from the room instantly if I hear the name "Claire Danvers" because I wouldn't be able to hold in the cries of pain.

"Brandon has been murdered," she whispers, but I do not feel any emotion towards him. The only emotion I feel is relief that Claire is fine, that she isn't injured or harmed in any way. Brandon, like Pennywell, is one of the _many_ vampires in this town that I wish I could destroy, but to destroy my own race would be wrong in this town – when the humans wish to kill us all, it hardly seems proper that I kill my own race. Especially as they are some of those on Oliver's side, the side opposite to me – if I have those opposition vampires killed, this would backfire on me most dreadfully.

"Do we know who did it?" I ask, not at all interested. This world is a better place without Brandon here, although if I admitted that aloud, Oliver would find a way to use that against me.

"We have the young Shane Collins in custody, as he was found with the body, but we believe that his father was involved," Verity says and I want to hit my head on the wooden armrest of this sofa. Of _course_ Claire would have managed to find her way into the _next_ bit of trouble in Morganville – I presume that she will be coming to the meeting between the Elder Council (which has to occur with the death of a vampire) and she will _not_ remain quiet with her boyfriend facing imminent death if he is found guilty. I shall have to cause her pain, because there is no chance that he _cannot_ be found guilty, if he was found with the body of a vampire. He may have not committed the murder – I sincerely doubt he has, with his father around – but because he was there, our legal system deems him guilty. If we find Frank Collins before Shane dies in the cage, then we can switch the charges… but I doubt we will. If we have not found him in the past two weeks, I doubt that this will incur a change in fortune in the next forty eight hours.

"I presume that Oliver is already at the council building," I say with a sigh, standing up. She nods before disappearing with the grace, speed and silence that I require all my staff to have – there isn't a point in having the staff if they do not do what I want. After all, I employing them is a privilege for them – I could employ any of the vampires in this town… well, those on my side!

I must go and deal with this rather depressing turn in events. After all, I am going to be destroying my daughter's happiness in one movement. I suppose it is almost the same, in a way, as to other teenagers in normal situations with normal parents and in a town where vampires don't exist. Their mother 'destroys' their happiness by refusing them to let them see their boyfriend – I even allow my daughter to _live_ with hers… even though if he tried anything on (I pop through at random times throughout the night, just to see my daughter… none of them have ever known) I would have her out of there like a rocket. I can still compulse my daughter, even though she is that – my daughter.

I glide through from my living room to the office, where I make my way for the portal in the corner. I use the key that I keep around my neck to unlock it (as so that nobody can come here without my permission and also so that my staff cannot use it) before motioning for the guards that have appeared behind me to follow me through. They do so grimly, as in a movement of respect for our fallen comrade. However, I know that it is simply a show, to show that they stand with vampires rather than the human perspective. They feel the same way as I do towards Brandon and do not mourn his death more than I do.

"Amelie, have you seen what allowing humans to do whatever they want has done to this town?" Oliver instantly snaps at me as soon as I enter the room. In the corner, I see Shane Collins struggling against two of the rather more _violent_ vampires holding him… across the way is Brandon, his motionless body lying on the top of a funeral slab. There are flowers around him that I _definitely_ do not believe belong there – but what result would I gain from ordering their removal.

"Incase you have forgotten, _I_ am the founder and overall ruler of this town; therefore, I have the final say on rules and various other decisions in the town," I say coolly, reminding him sharply just _who_ is the boss around here.

"Very well… then I presume that you will have no problem with sentencing the quite obviously guilty boy to death then, will you?" he counter argues smoothly.

I shake my head, looking over into the area where I know Shane is looking back at me. If I do not at least _subtly_ fight back for him, I have failed my daughter in more ways than I care to admit.

"I need to see some evidence before I do such a thing," I say simply, moving over to look at the body. He looks so much kinder and more as if I would accept him into my life in death than he ever did alive – death, well his _true_ death, seems to have brought an almost angelic quality about him – but that cannot be taken for anything. He once tried to kill my daughter – this vampire was bad and I cannot say that I regret his death. I cannot say that one single bit.

"How about the fact that Shane Collins was found at the scene of the crime, with the body?" Oliver asks, looking at his fingernails in boredom. "Wrap this up, Amelie, please. I would like to get back to charging for coffee, rather than the obvious freebies that my new waste of space barrista will be giving away," he moans but I shake my head.

Outside, I hear Claire heading towards the room, with Hans and Gretchen. If there were two vampires I would have wished for her never to meet, these would be the two. They are so… vulgar, so cold! I wish that they had declined the rules of Morganville, so that I would have been given a chance to kill them – these two are people I don't believe should have been allowed to live, with some of their actions. However, this is Morganville and I have to make sure that my race outlives the humans and isn't persecuted – that is why it is so biased towards them. I wish it could be more equal, as Sam wanted… he still wants, but that is impractical with this being the prime example as an oppositional point. Oliver would have a field day (I believe that this is the term) if he found out that I planned to turn the rules in the humans favour after this atrocity.

"It transpires we have visitors, Oliver, so let them be present as we make our decision," I say, my frozen heart dropping as I realise Claire _isn't _going to go away.

"Claire, what a lovely surprise to find you here," Oliver drawls as she enters. She is being flanked by the vampire nazis but as I give them a cool stare, they move away from her slightly.

"Claire, GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" Shane yells at Claire, fighting to get out of his restraining vampires - he hasn't a hope ever.

She unfortunately shakes her head and moves further into the room.

"What's going on?" she asks, her voice tremoring as she turns white as she spots Shane in the corner.

"Shane has killed a vampire," Oliver says without emotion. "He faces death if he is found guilty and I have to say, the odds seem to be one hundred percent yes to guilty."

"But he didn't do anything!" Claire wails. Her heartbreak makes me hurt internally; this is only the second time I have seen Claire awake and she is aware of my presence - neither time has been particularly pleasant.

"He was found with the body, Claire," I say quietly, when both Oliver and Claire look at me. I carefully keep my gaze away from the girl that is half of me... If I looked at her to see her perfect features distorted with pain, I do not know how I would react.

"That doesn't make him guilty!" she protests, trying to get closer to Shane but failing.

"Unfortunately, it does... What am I saying; it isn't unfortunate!" Oliver says, rubbing his hands in glee.

Everything has been said; there isn't anything more to be added. The decision must be made and I already know the way that it will go.

"Votes?" I ask Oliver and the silent Mayor Morrell.

"Guilty," Oliver says instantly - what are surprise that he would say that!

I take a deep breath and weigh up everything. I want to say not guilty, for Claire, but I cannot. For Morganville, for my power, I must say the answer that will have Claire hate me. My own daughter will hate me for a decision I will make.

"Guilty," my voice echoes around the suddenly silent room. With the knowledge that Shane is going to die, Claire breaks down into sobs, tears dripping down her perfect face.

"Guilty," Mayor Morrell, the weak man, says to the room.

"Three votes of guilty: hereby, I find Shane Collins guilty of murdering a vampire," I say, hating myself with every word. "The punishment for this will be that he shall be locked in a cage in Founder's Square for two days and two nights. On the second night, he shall be burnt with fire. That is all. Good day," I say his punishment quickly, as to push out the horror from my mind. How medieval this punishment is – and I have to inflict it upon my daughter's boyfriend. Ironic, isn't it, that most parents would wish to be able to do this and I am being forced to.

I cannot stay and listen to Claire's sobs anymore. With a meaningful look at Oliver, who seems to understand with a twisted grin, I glide out of the room, leaving the screaming boy and girl who are fighting an unwinnable battle against vampires to be with one another. My guards follow me through the portal and I slam it shut, locking it with the golden key that currently hangs around my neck.

"Leave me," I order my guards, with the last strength I have. They nod and leave the room, carefully shutting the door behind them.

As soon as they have gone, I feel myself going to pieces. How strange – I never react like this normally, but as soon as Claire is involved in a situation, I am all of a mess and having breakdowns continually!

I wrench my hair out of its tight bun and let the long waves grace the middle of my back. I shake my head furiously, trying to get the image of Claire's heartbroken face that I saw in my peripheral vision out of my head. It will not go. It is stuck in there, refusing to leave me. It will not go!

Tears flow down my face, the only coping mechanism I have at the minute to help me through the pain. I wrap one arm carefully around my torso to try and calm the aching of my immobile heart… it doesn't work. It only makes me ache for someone's arms to be around me, to comfort me in a way that I cannot do myself.

I move quickly to the phone on the desk and dial a number I have almost completed _thousands_ of times in the past, before I hung up prior to pressing the last number. Shaking hands nearly cause me to make a mistake but I do not – I memorised this number for times such as this, for when I need someone close, to hold me.

"Hello?" his perfect voice comes down the phone and I nearly collapse as I hear it.

"Samuel?" I whisper, barely able to talk through the tears. I sniff back the tears and manage to speak. "Samuel, please come here… I need you…"

It pains me so much to need to admit that I need him this much.

"I'll be right there," he promises and I nod, even though he cannot see, before hanging up the phone. I unlock the portal and suddenly he is running through it. I do not look at his face or what he is wearing, only allow him to wrap me in his arms and sob my heart out.

I need him.

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**What did you think?**

**Needed to happen (whole Claire hating Amelie thing) for something that I think is going to happen later!**

**Please review! I'm sorry, but from the amount of reviews at the beginning to now having only three on a chapter is pretty disappointing. I have enough things to do in life besides write, so I'm sorry to say that unless the reviews pick up (and this is applying to all other stories) I am not going to be writing anymore. **

**Vicky xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: **

**Wow, it seems to have taken me FOREVER to get to this number of chapters... Idk why!**

**Enjoy the chapter & I don't own anything!**

**Sorry, I forgot to update... I got hooked on reading the Sookie Stackhouse books!**

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_Amelie's POV:_

"Amelie, everything is going to be just fine," Sam soothes me, rocking me from side to side. I continue to sit in his lap, sobbing, as I have done for goodness knows how long.

"Claire hates me, Samuel, it isn't alright," I snap at him, before instantly regretting it. It isn't _his _fault that I decided to betray my daughter and her most likely innocent (in this case) boyfriend, it is my own. "I'm sorry, Samuel," I sigh, leaning back into his chest and breathing in his perfect scent. He's the one I love, so why can't I just admit it and hopefully be happy?

"Amelie, it's fine, honest," he says with a grin, tightening his arms around me. Slowly, he lowers his head and plants a soft kiss on the side of my neck, something which I don't push away or berate him for. I need this, this closeness between us, and my body isn't going to push him away.

"I need you," I breathe, unable to stop my thoughts escaping my mouth. It's the truth; he is my life, so why have I been unable to admit it until now?

However, he stiffens and pulls away slightly - the exact opposite of the reaction I thought he would have. Why else would he have been fighting for me for all these years, if he didn't want to hear that?

"Is that the truth?" he finally asks, breaking the entire silence in the room that reverberated as soon as I spoke. The words shock me; when have I ever lied? Oh... Yes, I see his point. I have to admit, I have lied too much in my life, particularly about my feelings for Samuel. "Because, Amelie, you're grieving from Claire basically hating you. How do I know that you truly believe what you're saying, that you're not going to turn around as soon as Claire becomes responsive and tell me that you don't want me? Amelie, you almost destroyed me before. I don't think my heart could cope with that again," he sighs heavily, not even noticing the tears rushing down my face.

I cannot believe that he could think so lowly of me; I cannot believe that he thinks that I would use him until something better came along, even though she isn't better – she's different. I cannot compare the love I have for Claire and Samuel because they are different things – I love Claire as my daughter, the thing that has remained constant throughout the years, but Samuel… he is the love of my life, the only person I can imagine to have such a hold on my heart in this way. He is the only one that leaves me incoherent when I speak with him, or even think of him, and he is the only one who can read me like an open book – Claire may be my daughter but she could not instil the same feelings in me that Samuel does. Just as Samuel cannot share the same feelings I have for Claire.

To be complete, to have everything I need, I need the two of them. They both need to be in my life, loving me. If I don't have them both, then I am not Amelie. I am just this empty shell, unable to do anything productive because I am longing for the two people in this world that I love.

"I need you," I repeat, through the tears. I wrench myself away from him, entirely hurt that he could think of me in such a way, and stand up as he does. "Samuel, I _need you_. I have always needed you, but when everything in my life is being destroyed at the same time, I have only realised now that I cannot go through life alone. Please Samuel, I am not going to beg you to believe me, because I cannot. Just know that I speak the truth."

"The truth; like when you told me that you never loved me and you didn't want to be with me?" he states matter-of-factly, staring at me in the eyes coolly. "I don't know what to believe…"

"If you didn't love me or believe that I could need you, why did you turn up here when I phoned you?" I ask him, wondering why he would bother to turn up if he thought I didn't want or need him.

"I don't know," he admits, causing a chill to rush through me. He doesn't know why he turned up – he doesn't know that he wanted to comfort me or anything. He just doesn't know. "Amelie, you know that I love you, that I have loved you for so many years without you returning the feeling publicly. However, I just feel that it is too coincidental for this to be happening now, you confessing you need me when you have just sentenced your daughter's boyfriend to death. Surely you can see where I am coming from?"

I do see his point, I do. If I were him… I would probably be thinking the same way that he is, trying to protect his heart from more heartbreak on the other's behalf. Yet _why will he not believe me the one time I want him to_? It is just my luck that this would happen, isn't it?

"I see how you have come to this conclusion, but… but, Samuel, it isn't the truth," I whisper, closing my eyes. Somehow I end up on the floor, legs crossed, and place my head in my hands to try and think things through. I need him to realise that I need him _now_, so that he can help me with Claire… or is that his point? Is his point that I have confessed these feelings for him just to get Claire back and once that happens I shall leave him again? I need to reassure him that this isn't the case that no matter what happens with Claire in the coming weeks, months, that I shall not abandon him again. "Samuel… I could have only three years left, if Myrnin is unsuccessful with the cure for Claire. You know that I cannot survive the heartbreak of losing her _again_. Please don't let this time when we could be happy be like the fifty years of denial I have put us both through. I love you, Samuel, and I need to be with you; I wouldn't lie, not now," I confess my plans for what could possibly be the last years of my life, that I need to be with him.

I do not look at him because I fear that I could not like the look on his face. However, he suddenly moves across the room and has his hands on my shoulders, pulling me into him. The tears in my eyes spill over and soon I am sobbing into his shoulder, his arms wrapping around my back as he comforts me again. Why am I crying? He's came to me, he doesn't want to leave me!

"I love you, Amelie, I never doubted my feelings for one minute," he murmurs into my hair as my tears subside. I fall into his lap further and twist around to be able to see his angelic face, his sapphire eyes peering into my own with such intensity it scares me. "I only feared that you didn't really feel this way, that you were doing it so that you weren't alone. Please stay with me, don't leave me again."

Somehow, his lips are suddenly on my own, kissing me with a fiery passion – something with which I reciprocate. I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, not letting my hands slide from their position twisted up into his brilliant red locks. His tongue presses against my lips and my mouth opens, allowing him inside to further the kiss, deepening it to show the passion and love I have for him.

His fingers snake their way into my hair, mussing it up – I don't care.

I have my Samuel, and I need him. I will never leave him again…

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_Claire's POV (yes, it's her FIRST POV in this story! Whoop!):_

She was meant to be the saviour. She was meant to be the one who argued with Oliver, who made Shane be found innocent, which he is. She was meant to save him.

She fed him to the dogs like meat; he means absolutely nothing to her. I thought that the fact that he risked his own life in order to give her the book, rather than Oliver, would mean something. Evidently it didn't. She betrayed all of us in order to keep her position in this town; she relinquished the possibility of saving him by removing her informal Protection for no reason besides a lack of evidence to prove him innocent.

Amelie could have saved Shane, she really could have. She could have truly rewarded his action to make sure that she remained in control of Morganville, but she didn't.

I hate her. She has destroyed the slight belief in me that she is good, that underneath everything she is on the side of the humans. She isn't; she is on the side of Amelie and whatever suits her. No wonder she pushed Sam away (Michael told me): she wanted him to prove she could have him and then decided to push him to the rubbish heap.

The only way she will _ever _get back in my 'good books' (or back from below _Oliver_ in my bad) is if she gets Shane released, or she saves me from something like Oliver.

I hate her. She has ruined my life, and Shane's for nothing.

I wish she was dead.

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**Ahhh yay! Sam and Amelie happy! Sorry for divulgences from the story for that to happen; we're back on track! Next stop - getting Claire to stop hating Amelie! **

**Please review! I'd like more please... if you wouldn't mind :D**

**Vicky xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: **

**Enjoy the chapter! I haven't updated in almost a month and to my reviews I would like to apologise. However, I have been receiving very few reviews on this story in comparison to my others and although I had written this chapter 2 months ago now, I deigned not to post until now.**

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_Amelie's POV:_

Oliver is dead. That is such a colloquial term for me to use, but it is true. The way he _threatened my daughter _is inexcusable and is causing me to act in a way.

I knew this day would have to come (and soon) in order for Claire to work with Myrnin to find herself a cure for the curse as well as one for the disease... I just never imagined that it would be so soon. I never imagined that I would have to be signing my _daughter _to me in a _contract _that gives her the protection I ought to, as her mother, already give her. Yet in this situation, with this child, I cannot... Oliver is too much of a risk to me and I fear he could try and convert her into one of his minions, meaning that she works against her own Mother, much as I work against my Father...

"Amelie, are you sure you want to do this?" Sam asks me quietly, squeezing my shoulders. I nod and place the bracelet that used to belong to my lover in the box, along with a contract for Protection... I don't want anything for it, not at all, but just to know that I am entirely responsible for her Protection is enough - it is as it should be; however, she has to sign a contract and _have _to do as I say.. But I cannot particularly say that I disagree - a child ought to at least _sometimes _do as their parent requests and I shall have control over such a small amount of things in her life.

"I have to," I say, with a small smile. "It's the one chance I have to have a little control in her life and to ensure that she is safe."

"Yet you've never done this before," he counter argues... I know he is just playing devil's advocate to ensure that I definitely want to do this, but it's still rather annoying.

"Oliver has never been around with Claire in Morganville before, Sam," I reveal the true reason why she must come under my Protection. "She has no chance of surviving and being on the side of good if he has the possibility of turning her onto his side, to hate me!"

"Claire's a good kid, Amelie, I'm sure she's all too aware of how skilfully twisted Oliver is," Sam argues back - she isn't his daughter! However, the moment I think this, I begin to regret it: he has been more than a father in the way he has cared for her even though she isn't his.

"I know, Sam, I know," I sigh, leaning into his shoulder. 'Samuel' seems too formal now - I need to simply call him Sam... "However, she could be duped easily... He could compel her or _anything_. I have already offered her the Protection and she seemed responsive, not hating me as much as I imagined, so I need to give it to her."

Sam snorts slightly and kisses my temple softly before moving across the room. "I know, my sweetheart... It is the right thing to do; I just wanted to ensure that you were entirely sure about it," he says and I nod. "Do you want me to be the one to go with her, to Myrnin's?"

"Yes, I need you to look after her, to ensure that Myrnin does not hurt her," I say instantly, unable to remember back even a short number of weeks as to whether or not I asked him to do this or not. "Thank you, Sam... You are the only one I can trust her with."

"Trust as in you think she'll get into trouble or as in you need someone strong with her?" he clarifies and I get the sense he is fishing for compliments. Do I indulge him?

I snort and turn to face him, lifted out of my depressed state slightly just by the ludicrousity of his question.

"Well, I'd like to say that it's because you are just so strong, but that's not it," I say, raising my eyebrows as I walk back across to him. I place my hands on his shoulders and smile at him, his arms wrapping around my waist once again. "Oh, I hate to admit it, but Claire always manages to find herself in trouble. First with the book, then Shane being tried for murder, then Oliver almost killing her... Why couldn't my daughter be _normal_?" I manically laugh before it turns into tears... I should stop crying, stop being sad, but I can't.

"She's like her mother," Sam whispers into my hair and I smile once again. I love it when I'm compared to my daughter for the simple reason that she _is _mine and for people to see similarities is always a good thing for me. "I have to go teach, I'll see you later," he says abruptly, pulling himself out of my arms with the utmost ease. He jerkily runs through the door and through the house, leaving me stood shell-shocked for a moment before I decide to have the package sent to Claire.

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_Flashback:_

"Please, you have to do _something_!" Claire cries and I know that, although she hates me, she expects me to change his fate.

"I cannot," I say, through my heart wrenching inside of me. "I would like to lie and say I shall do everything I can to have him released, but then Oliver would kick up a fuss. I could not cope with his melodramatic attitude."

"So you're basically using Shane as a device to pacify Oliver?" she asks me, increduled. "I take it that in this town, it's guilty until proven innocent and even then only if the Founder wants it to happen," she spits out my title, showing just how little I mean to her (if anything) for doing this.

"I truly am sorry, Claire," I say, emotion ringing in my voice. She makes to leave but I shake my head slightly and she lowers herself back into her seat, breathing heavily. "However, I have an offer for you. Although Shane is outside of my Protection area, I can offer you and your other friends my _personal_ Protection, something I very rarely do," I promise, wanting to do anything to tie her to me, even though I would have done this anyway.

She looks at me through narrowed eyes, as if trying to find some sort of flaw in my plans or something.

"Sign with you... Like what Oliver wanted, just with you instead?" she confirms and I nod, shaking infinitesimally when she mentions he wanted her first. Rather, he offered her it first, just to lie and pretend he could get Shane out of jail.

"If this is the path you wish to take, or even if not, I shall send you over the necessary things shortly," I respond and she understands she has my dismissal. With a sense of speed even a vampire would be impressed with, she stands up and rushes towards the portal that brought her here… taking her out of my reach.

I smile in the direction she disappears in, knowing that one day soon she will be mine…

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_End of flashback._

"Verity, would you send this to Claire Danvers?" I request the assistant who shoots into the room as soon as she hears her name.

"Certainly, ma'am," she responds, taking the package from me and disappearing out of the same door through which she entered.

I sink down into a chair and smile, knowing that shortly she could be under my command. Of course, that isn't something to particularly be happy about but it means that she will be safe and I shall be able to instruct her to find the cure which will save us all.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**Vicky xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: **

**ONE review last chapter. It has been up over a _month_, and one review... when it was getting LOADS at the beginning, this is really depressing.**

**I don't even know if I want to continue... I have loads of other stories and if you don't like it, well, it's not my fav story either and so I can just leave it.**

**Let me know.**

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_Amelie's POV:_

She has signed the contract. I felt it as soon as the pen touched to paper, signing herself over to me in exchange for Protection of the highest degree. I have managed to 'get in there' before Oliver, someone who would have the most disastrous of consequenced if she signed with him... No, it would not be a good thing.

I expect to be receiving the contract within the next day or so - when post is earmarked for me, it generally comes near instantly. Something to do with the status of being the Founder generally means that the humans in the sorting office bring the post as soon as they sort it, rather than waiting for the morning delivery.

She is holding the bracelet in her hand, sitting in her room. She cannot see an opening on it... I can see her because she is under my power now; she is a 'weapon' for me, some may call it a 'possession' though I wouldn't, and that allows me to see what she is doing.

She must have the bracelet attached within a short period of time, well it will mean that it is quicker and easier to get her enrolled in the harder classes and then to get her to work with Myrnin. So I walk towards the portal and glide through, appearing without a sound in her bedroom. I deliberately clear my throat so she is aware of my existence but her heartbeat still increases dramatically as she turns to face me. Adrenaline courses through her body and I smile wanly as I acknowledge the velvet box in her hands.

My daughter is a beautiful child; I have always known this and I always will. She may be of a more petite nature, but her long locks of brown hair, her warm chocolate eyes, and her luscious skin colouring more than make up for her lack of height. Yet right now she appears scared and confused as to how I'm here, in her room.

"What are you doing here?" she asks me, her voice trembling.

"I need to put the bracelet on," I explain simply, sliding forwards towards her. She automatically takes a step back as I do this, before I reach out to carefully take the bracelet from its box. Then, I take hold of her left arm and hold it still, ignoring her weak and pitiful attempts to release herself from my grasp.

Quickly, as to not cause my daughter a ridiculous amount of pain for a prolonged period of time, I slip the small silver plated bracelet onto her arm, forcing it through the bone and the soft tissue that a human has been blessed with… yes; it is a blessing, even with vampires in the world. I would give anything to be able to have the feeling of being human once again – I would give up Samuel and this town, _everything_ so I could be my daughter's mother… as a human.

"Ow," she mutters, but doesn't say anything further… yet she shrinks away from me, which causes more pain to my immobile heart than almost anything else. She is scared of me. Finally, she speaks again. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, little Claire; I require you to do absolutely nothing – for the time being," I say slowly, processing how best to relay what she will be doing for me. Something tells me that she is yet to inform her friends of her signing with me, something that they shall be none too pleased with when they find out the truth, if my knowledge of them is at all correct. "No, I shall contact you when I require you."

"Ok," she replies uncertainly, not sure what to say. A sense of hysteria rises in me and it takes all that I can not to laugh out loud at the situation – I would laugh and then I would cry and break down and confess to Claire that she is my daughter. I have a feeling that this is a revelation that she would not take kindly to hearing. At least, not at the moment.

"Au revoir, ma petite," I say to her with the usual perfect French accent customary of someone who _is_ French. She stares at me with her usual look of confusion, which only seems to be on her face when I am in the vicinity, and her eyes follow my progression back to the door. Already, her face is seared into my mind, another memory of her that I can store in my 'inventory' so that a day when I cannot see her, which is often, is a little less unbearable…

I return to my home, breathing heavily (for a vampire) at what I have just done, confirmed. I have ensured that my daughter is under my Protection, so that she can work to save my race and then, hopefully, herself… perhaps even both at the same time, although that would be ambitious – after all, in one hundred years, Myrnin has barely made headway on it. How are two people going to be able to be so much more proactive in merely two and a half, give or take a month? I believe that they chances, the possibilities, are slim but I cannot afford to lose hope. This could be the one chance I have. I _have_ to make it count. If not, then I lose my daughter again.

I also loose my life.

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**Next chapter starts around the same thing as Midnight Alley**

**Review please**

**Vicky xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: **

**This chapter has been written cuando estaba en Espana!**

**I was amazing and brought MV 3-6 with me, SO I'M ABLE TO GET THE ACTUAL WORDS FROM THE BOOK! I'm pretty amazing, I know... Rather, the fact I'm getting a week off school to mess around in Spain means I can read something other than revision materials! But sorry for this chapter having more of R.C's dialogue than my own... I just got hooked on this page in the book & rememorised the words! But I've changed some!**

**So I own nothing, and SPECIFICIALLY also the dialogue used from Midnight Alley XD**

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_Amelie's POV:_

"I would like you to study privately with a friend of mine," I say. "For credit, of course," I continue, smiling slightly as I look around Myrnin's library. He has collected so many books throughout the years - it is truly remarkable. However, the state in which he keeps these books is appalling! "This is his library. Mine is _far _more orderly," I inform her, keen for her, for some reason, to know that I am no messy slob. When she asked what to call me, I wanted to ask her to call me her Mother, but I just resisted: I barely held onto the coolness that I must have with her to prevent her from discovering that something is wrong with me. Rather, that _Oliver _would be able to find something further and then destroy me.

However, she looks rather uncomfortable - as I suspected she would - and as if she can barely cope. "A...uh...vampire friend?" she asks, and I fold my hands over as she speaks.

"Is that an issue?" I request of her, knowing her answer will be no, but _wanting_ her to contradict and surprise me. I want her to say yes it is, that she won't do it: for her safety's sake, she shouldn't do it, but for her (and my) life, she ought to... She _needs _to.

"N-no, ma'am," she replies, as I knew she would, but she doesn't believe it. She wants to contradict me, but daren't... The fact she doesn't want to do something so eviently dangerous proves she is my offspring - her self-preservation instinct (although this isn't something I have seen often so far) is strong within her.

"I believe you will find him most interesting, Claire. He is indeed one of the most brilliant minds I have ever encountered in my long life, and he has learnt so much through his lifetime that he could never teach it all. Still, he has much to pass along. I have been seeking the right pupil, one who can quickly grasp the discoveries he has made, and assist him in his research," I explain to her, sighing internally at Myrnin's state of mind. If only he could be lucid if he has to suffer with this disease rather than be dangerous...

She sounds rather faint as she looks sickened... I suppose she is worried about it being Oliver. She truly doesn't know me if she thinks I would entrust such information to _Oliver_; I believe the modern day film equivelant is 'Pirates of the Carribean, The Curse of the Black Pearl' when Jack Sparrow gives up the information and there is promoptly a mutiny.

I explain to her who Myrnin is, and how we are friends - rather, I explain to her that we are _allies _because describing my friends could be dangerous, if Oliver managed to charm Claire. I doubt he would manage it, but it really is a dire situation: as far as Oliver knows, Myrnin is dead.

"But once he was a great scholar, known and revered. His works should not be forgotten as well," I say, after describing the loss of his name, and accidentally reveal something that I shouldn't. She knows nothing of this disease that has been inflicted upon us and that he suffers from it; she needn't be as worried as of yet. I cannot help but wish to protect my daughter from such dangers... When he tries to attack her, of course she will realise then, or Sam will indulge her in her questions. He may as well be her Father; he has fretted for her, from afar, for so many years and even helped me to find her.

"Come with me," I say to her, standing. "Leave your book bag here... I wouldn't want you to forget it in here. Remember... Be careful," my throat constricts slightly as I give her a warning so strong and full of emotion hidden underneath the cool edge I barely manage to contain.

I open the door in the corner and emerge in the lab. I see Myrnin is in the back of the room, almost entirely obscured by the huge lamp in front of him. He doesn't need it to read, of course, but I suppose that he isn't in the right state of mind… and it probably assists him in his attempt to retain his normality. I don't know, but I do know that he looks worse than before.

I never knew that a vampire, unless starved, could begin to appear much frailer than he ought to be. But it must be the disease taking it's final stance in his body. He cannot have long left: whilst he may have had at least _bouts_ of senility, he has lasted over triple the amount of time every single one of the others have done. Whether it is because he has a true need to stay alive, a goal– saving our entire race - to work towards, I don't know but he has lasted a long time.

He seems so weak, entirely unhealthy and I know that he doesn't have long before he knows he has to lock himself away in the cells. I will, of course, give him absolutely everything he desires for in his cell for he is my longest friend and has spent the last 70 years of his long life working tirelessly on attempting to find a cure for this disease we have.

I can sense my daughter behind me, hear her heartbeat and fast breathing, and know that she has spotted the handsome man in the chair. I know that his good looks shall not be wasted on her: he has only ever been a friend to me and I now have Sam, so it is entirely unthinkable.

"Myrnin?" I say his name gently as I walk into the room, knowing I need to keep him calm so he doesn't scare her. Whilst she must do as I require her to, as a daughter does for a mother just with less binding terms, I do want her to feel at least slightly comfortable in the situation. Even though she will have Sam there, she does not know this yet.

He looks up at me with a smile, good; he is in a sane mood for the moment… though I know that that can change within an instant. "I brought Claire, you know, the girl I told about," I continue in the same tone, probably comparable to how a human would speak to the elderly or infirm.

He looks absolutely horrified at the fact that I have brought my daughter here, but he has to remember _she cannot die_. The only time she can die without the curse being lifted is when her nineteenth year rolls around. That is just under three years away therefore she is absolutely fine.

But as soon as he sees her, as soon as he spots the absolute beauty that is my daughter, he stops with the horror and simply becomes intrigued in the girl. I can see his mind working, the product of so many years with him, and know that he is debating whether or not she could be useful: I suppose he is able to sense something about her scientific abilities, as I am able to sense the power and usefulness people have to me. And, whilst she may not realise it, the brightest shining beacon of the entire world is my daughter, Claire. Every single time I see her, she is the illumination of my life…

Yet even illuminations run out. And I fear that this could be the end, that we will not be able to find a cure for both the disease _and_ the curse, meaning that we loose our lives.

He beckons her forwards and begins to question her about some sort of hermetic arts or something: science has never interested me and it never will, but it is a lucky chance that my Claire is _outstanding_ at it, no? Or is it more than a coincidence?

Whilst he is questioning her, I sit perfectly in my seat in the lab, considering things. She can come here tomorrow, and the day after. I have already arranged more strenuous classes for her, so that is not an issue and they all result in more afternoon free time so that she can come here. I need her to put everything she has into this, though she may not know why… I am sure, however, that Sam shall indulge her in her questions though I can tell him not to: he views her as _his_ daughter and nothing less…

Myrnin tries to debate with me about having Claire here, but I overrule him: he _knows_ the importance of having her here; he _needs_ her to work with, to help him with his primitive cure already developed. If it is not developed, we all die… it is as simple as that.

"She will come here tomorrow," I inform Myrnin coolly, realising that it is time to leave before he turns senile… I can see it in his eyes, he is slowly loosing control and I don't want her to see that right now. Otherwise she will go home and Michael will realise something is wrong, if Shane doesn't… I _really_ do not like her being with such a lowlife but for one thing, I cannot influence anything and also, if it makes her happy… I shall have to be happy for now.

I take her back to the room in the university and motion for her to pick her bag up, noting her reaction to Myrnin. She seems shaken, of course, as to seeing Myrnin who I had probably led to believe was old and crazy. Whilst the latter may be true, he doesn't _seem_ crazy… at least not to me.

"Sam will pick you up in the University Centre tomorrow, at 4pm," I inform her, holding the flame from the match in my hand. It is so surreal to think if I dropped this on myself and didn't remove it instantly, I would die an almost instantaneous death – once the fire got a hold on me, of course. I could wipe all my worries away, besides for two.

One would have to be the town… I could not leave it with _Oliver_.

But the second… it's for the two people I love. If I died, I would leave the love of my life as well as the daughter I desire to get to know. This burning desire is the reason, the _true_ reason, why I do not commit suicide and let her live a full life without me cursing her… the selfishness I have is saying if I die, she dies… we have one last shot to save her and that is all.

I let her leave before picking up the phone, the strange enchantments from Ada the thing that made her come here so surreptitiously gone now, to call Sam.

"Amelie," he breathes my name and I feel myself weakening. But this is _not_ what I want. All I want is to have him with me but for me to remain at full strength – or as full as I can be, what with the scenario of my daughter in the equation… and the disease.

"I need you to pick Claire up at 4pm in the UC," I say sharply, in business mode. I must clarify with him the difference between the time when I am his Founder, the boss, and the time in which I can spend with him.

"Certainly," he sighs, evidently annoyed with the way that I am talking to him. "Speak to you another time," he continues, hanging up the phone before I can say another word.

So Claire is most likely annoyed since I have her doing something for me, Myrnin is annoyed with me for I have forced him to take my daughter on as an assistant and Sam is annoyed with me because I spoke to him like a Founder, not a lover.

If being annoyed with me was the aim I desired, I would have won hands down!

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**Whatcha think?**

**If I get a few reviews, I'll finish the next chapter and post it soon. If not... then next month or the month after actually, since I'm in Spain this time next month!**

**Vicky xx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

**~I'd like to point out that I haven't read Midnight Alley for a **_**long**_** time now so I can't remember **_**exactly**_** what happened here… I **_**would**_** go and check it, but I'm loaning it out to someone at the minute so I can't~**

**OMG, OMG, OMG, it's been MONTHS since I updated. I honestly had perhaps the worst writer's block I have ever had for this story, and I don't even know why. Now I'm writing this chapter, it seems so simple!**

**Forgive me!**

**I don't own anything…good job, since someone'd have nicked it by now, I took this long to update!**

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Claire has already been to Myrnin's and I can only hope that there has been _some_ sort of result procured. Even if she has only begun to understand what she has to do – I know that a clever girl like herself will begin to put two and two together as to what this is to do – that is better than the last assistant I managed to find for Myrnin. I can only hope that she has made some progress in what she knows she has to do, yet I wonder as to how much Sam has told her about what is going on, how much she has managed to get out of him. He knows who she is and I doubt he will not indulge her in what she wants to know.

Wearily, I douse the candle in bedroom and climb into bed, shutting my eyes. I care not for the politics of this town at the current minute; the only thing I can focus on is Claire and whether or not dear Myrnin and herself will have managed to procure_ any_ tangible results from their first session. Something in my heart tells me that they shall not have, yet I can but hope, can I not?

I drift of into sleep and hope that the next news I have shall only be good.

OoOoOo

A knocking at my bedroom door instantly brings me back to consciousness from a sleep that was not particularly deep in any means. The dreams disturb me, yet I cannot put them into words: they were more _pictures_ than anything else, snapshots of things I have dreaded and things that I know I dread if they were to occur.

"Entrez," I call in my native tongue, not at all pleased at being interrupted from the short amount of time per night that I have to myself, the time that is _mine_ and not anybody else's.

The door opens carefully and my assistant walks through carefully, remaining just inside the doorway. "Ma'am, apologies for disturbing you but we need your presence down at the Elders Council," she says quietly, a strange undercurrent to her voice.

"Well, are you going to enlighten me or am I going to be forced to guess the reason myself?" I ask, my voice cutting into her entirely. She flinches back but then stands upright again, facing my frame.

"It's Sam Glass, ma'am," she says, instantly freezing me. Anything to do with Sam cannot be good, especially such an early time in the morning with the sun beginning to rise – I can feel it in my bones. Whilst I may have accepted him close to me of late, nobody else knows this and I am keen for it to remain quiet. "He has been staked, ma'am. Chief Morrell is bringing him to the Elders Building right now, but you are needed to bring him back," she continues, explaining why Sam is the reason I am being disturbed.

He's been staked. The only man I have loved, the one who would _die_ for the breathers in this town, has a high percentage of dying because some human has staked him… someone has been selfish enough to try and get rid of the only one of us who cares for them whatsoever – besides myself for Claire – and this is not going to go without punishment.

But I need to save Sam first.

"I shall be there shortly," I barely manage to keep my tone cool and composed, to hide the fact that I care so deeply for someone I profess to have left behind in my past when he was turned.

She nods and walks out of the room, shutting the door near silently behind her. I cannot move for a good minute, unable to accept that _Sam_ has been staked, until I rush into action as I know that he will be on his way. I need to be there to greet him and help him because can you really see _Oliver_ doing anything to assist? No, I cannot see him helping Sam; he would simply leave him there and watch him die.

I dress quickly in a silk suit, tying my hair back in a bun to keep it out of the way of Sam's blood. I don't want to get it caught in the stake or in his wound, causing him more pain. That would be inexcusable and I could never forgive myself if _I_ caused him yet _more_ pain. No, that would be wrong and utterly…masochistic.

The only way I can get to the City Hall is via the portal, if I am to be there to receive Sam. So I head through the door in my living room and reappear in a small closet in the side of the main room where Sam shall be brought to. My hands are shaking and I cannot concentrate on anything other than the knowledge that I, a sick vampire, have to bring back another sick vampire from near death, something which is hard enough with an elderly vampire and will be near impossible with Sam's delicate age. It is down to me to save the one man I have ever loved; to save him so that I am not alone for my daughter does not even know who I am, in the strictest of senses.

"Here he is, ma'am," I hear Richard's voice as he runs into the room, in his arms the body of my fallen lover. He has been almost slain by a human, someone who could have killed him, and he looks so _frail_; he reminds me of when he had been shot and lay dying in my arms.

Yet this time, he has already had his second chance… and no more can occur.

"Place him down there," I order, pointing to the other side of the room. I _must_ keep myself under control, keep the feelings I have for Sam hidden underneath the desire to keep him alive, to ensure he doesn't die. So I move across the room and fold my legs as I sit on the floor, placing the head of my barely alive lover in my lap.

The stake protrudes from his chest and sends waves of anguish and anger through me: anguish because he is in so much _pain_, because of me, and anger because why would _anyone_ want to try and kill my Sam, the only one who has tried to do anything for humans in this town?

"Sam," I whisper his name, my hand stroking his red hair softly as I try to see if he can recognise me. He has been fighting to be this close to me for so many years, yet he isn't even conscious to see how _near_ to me he is. "How are you?" I speak in the same soft tone as his hand reaches out to grip the hem of my top tightly. Normally, this would inflict a ripping in the material, yet he is so weak that it barely even stretches it.

"I'd say good, but that wouldn't really be the truth," he manages to grin slightly, proving to me that this is him, that he isn't going to leave me. I couldn't…I don't think I could cope if he left me, even with the knowledge that Claire is in the world, near to me once more.

I manage a small smile as the feeling that being near him spreads through me, bending closer to him to allow my lips to brush against his ear. "Do not leave me, Sam, I implore you to understand that," not one other person in the room can hear this, I am one hundred percent positive. He simply nods as I move backwards, his eyes locking into mine with entire understanding as his breathing becomes ever more laboured. He is continuing to die, until this stake is removed.

As I focus upon him, trying to get him to stay in this world with whatever powers I, as the eldest vampire, possess, I hear murmurings from the back. Surely they cannot be true, the crackling on the radio of one of the guards of City Hall informing me that _my_ Claire is coming here? She cannot be; what purpose has brought her here?

Yet it is true. I can hear her heartbeat, hear the blood of partially me rushing through her veins as she moves ever nearer to the door, flanked by some of her favourite vampires, if you find this dry sense of irony to be amusing. I hear rather than look as she enters the room, remaining entirely locked upon Sam's face as I can see he recognises her also.

Then he seems to drop slightly, and I know I have mere minutes to save him. "Claire," I find myself addressing my daughter in a cool voice, yet even I can hear the slight edge of my frantic feelings being declared to the world. "Come here and assist me," I order her, hearing the digging in of her heels as she tries to resist Oliver pushing her closer to me to follow my orders.

She drops down opposite me and I find myself, for a fraction of a second, looking into her soul almost, almost rememorising everything about her appearance. Then the remembrance that it is _Sam_ in the most imminent danger here today, rather than her, returns to the forefront of my brain, and I find myself asking her to remove the stake whilst I try and bring him back with the powers indescribable in my grasp.

His eyes flicker open and I instantly lean over to him, assisting him in sitting up rather than remaining in my lap. Claire slinks away, something which I notice with peripheral vision rather than being my main focus, and I begin to murmur to Sam, forgetting everything and every thought about keeping my feelings quiet.

He tells me about how he has came to be in this situation, how an unknown human staked him, and my anger rises, almost especially with _Claire _for the strangest reason – she could perhaps have prevented this, if she had been heading to her classes on time. from the rumpled state of her clothing as I glance over her, my irrational thoughts (any rationality sails out of the window if Sam is in the equation) have me knowing that she had no priority for schooling…no, she desired to spend time with her 'boyfriend'.

I call her into the other room, unfounded anger the forefront of my mind, even with my own daughter…_especially_ with my own daughter, if the only man who has ever cared for her has been perhaps hurt because of her. If she cannot inform me of any details, I honestly do not know what I shall say.

"What happened?" I repeat the same question as I asked my dear Samuel to my daughter, watching her eyes to see if she shall lie to me. I can honestly hope she knows better than to do this, especially now she knows I am even simply a vampire.

She relays the events that are identical to what Sam said, when the remembrance – it seems so strange to realise I am forgetting so much at the minute – that she is dying hits me. she, like myself and everyone in this town, has an expiry date on her head – yet hers is even more premature than my own.

"You must go to Myrnin's today," I order her, turning away from her as I realise I am sending her into the epitome of danger once again – yet it is for her own good.

"How…how am I supposed to get there?" something about the idiocy of this question, the way such a bright girl could ask such a naïve and simplistic question, has me snapping.

I whirl around, my eyes blazing crimson, as I face her, anger evident on my face. "Little fool, do not bother me with trivia!" I hiss at her, watching as she leaves the room in a frightened panic.

The door closes and I suddenly feel weak, the knowledge of the events of the past minutes making me regret even waking up this morning. If I ceased to exist last night, Sam would be with me now. Yet Claire would be nearing her own death, with nobody there – or she would perhaps expire with me. I do not know.

Yet I sit down in a chair in a daze and simply weep, unable to help myself; I cannot cope with this much longer.

Something will go wrong soon. I am sure of it.

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**Thoughts?**

**Once again, so , so sorry for the delay!**

**Vicky xx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

**So sorry for the long delay**

**I don't own anything**

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~x~

The weeks pass and it becomes even more dangerous for my Claire to go to work with Myrnin – yet she _must_. There is no other way for her to survive, for there to be a way for both myself to survive the disease and Claire to survive the curse that has been upon her for so long. I _must_ ensure that she continues to go to Myrnin, to try and gain the result that we all desire.

It seems almost as if no time has passed between the time I was too rude to my own daughter following Sam's near miss and now, yet it also feels as if one thousand more years have passed. The days have, in a sense, dragged on to the point where I cannot distinguish the time on a clock, cannot recognise whether or not the time truly _is_ four in the afternoon or whether my discombobulated mind has made me believe that.

A knock at the door startles me and I jump ever so slightly as I realise that I have merely been staring at the clock for perhaps three hours: the last time I can consciously remember checking the time was approximately eleven in the morning and now it is two in the afternoon.

"Enter," I call coolly through the door and watch almost abstractly as the wood pulls open. There is a sense of weariness within me, one that is growing more and more as the days pass, and I wonder what shall be the catalyst to force myself to rise from this stupor and return to the fight that I _must_ fight. What shall be the change within me that results in my actually desiring to find how to save Claire, rather than sit here as I am now?

In through the door walks Sam, naturally, the one person who could normally raise my spirits. Yet this is not the case today; my body is being stubborn and refusing to return to normal, even for the man who I love.

"Amelie," he says my name but I do not react, simply sit up a little straighter, as I do with all visitors. "Are you alright?" he asks me, puzzlement sliding across his face as I do not respond in what I presume are seconds passing, perhaps even upwards of a minute. All conceptions of time have been lost from my mind and I cannot comprehend why.

"The time moves ever closer, Samuel, and we are as far away from a cure for _either_ party as we were before she came," I speak in the most wistful of voices, it sounding far away even to my own ears. It's almost as if another person is speaking, rather than myself, and I can barely comprehend processing my own words. "Is there a point in continuing to fight? We shall fail anyway, I am sure of it. So why do we not cease this futile activity now, rather than simply pain myself further in the future?" whilst it has nothing to do with him in technicalities, I cannot help myself from contemplating the idea of ending this experiment now. This is the gravity of my present mood, it being to the point where I care for nought but the idea that this pain can _stop_.

He startles me, Sam this is, as he moves closer and slams his hands on the desk. An almost ominous omen occurs as the phone begins to ring, yet he simply pulls it from the wall with an ease that I admire as I stare into his eyes; I cannot comprehend the depths of his emotions at this time. I admire the drive he has here, the strength to be angry with me for giving up.

"Don't say that," he growls. "You have fought for this for too long, Amelie, to give up. Do not say you have fought for long enough for all that would mean was that you had continued a dying experiment and sacrificed lives. If you end this, then I cannot say what I will do, yet it shall not be pretty."

His ferocious side startles me ever so slightly, rousing me from this lack of caring state for a fraction of a second before the waves of melancholy come crashing over me once again. "I see no desire-" I begin to answer before the blasted mobile telephone I have begins to chime in quick succession.

"Ignore it," Sam orders me powerfully, the strength in his voice commanding me to do this without a qualm. "We must discuss this, Amelie, for I have see you without Claire around and I can already see the differences in you now. We _must_ fight."

He looks as if he is going to continue, when the door opens once again – yet this time without permission to be opened – and the wiry frame of Oliver is behind the door. The expression on his face is akin to one I have seen on there merely once before: a grimness of the past mingled with the formation of fear throughout his expression.

It's the face that can only be brought about by one person.

I find myself rising to my feet fluidly without a word, my eyes tearing away from Sam to lock with Oliver. He seems terrified, yet detached, and I can only sense the fear within him now that I begin to concentrate – there is nothing else there.

"Yes?" I ask him sharply, somehow already beginning to rise from my stupor. Something is wrong, oh so wrong. I just cannot pinpoint what it is.

"It has happened, Amelie; your worst nightmare has occurred," he says in the gravest tone he has. This alone sends cold shivers through me, a feeling of pure desolation as I begin to comprehend what he means.

"No…" I whisper in shock, my hand clenching the back of the chair as I close my eyes to try and distort the image forming behind my eyelids. "He _can't_ be back, Oliver."

"He is," Oliver replies, Sam sitting between us without an idea what is occurring. "Bishop is back, Amelie. And he's at the Glass House."

_This_, and this alone, is the one thing that raises me from the stupor I have fallen so deeply into.

My Father is _back_…and he is in the house where my daughter is.

This cannot bode well.

~x~

* * *

**Once again, so sorry for the long update!**

**I changed things ever so slightly from the books here.**

**Review please & don't fav/alert without reviewing, thanks!**

**Vicky xx**


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